Ning Yuan came out of the kitchen with a water glass in her hand, and stopped at the edge of the living room.
Rong Zhaonan was leaning against the headboard of his bed in his bedroom. He had just hung up the phone, and a lingering coldness shrouded his brows.
That was the imposing aura that hadn't completely subsided after finishing official business.
He was completely different from the "sickly" appearance he had just shown in front of her.
Ning Yuan overheard a few words and guessed that it was probably a call from the Zhou family in England.
She looked at his slightly cold profile, silently walked over, and handed him a glass of warm water with lemon slices in it.
"Have some water."
Rong Zhaonan looked up at her, the coldness in his eyes quickly fading and turning into gentleness. He took the cup and said, "Thank you."
Ning Yuan looked down at him quietly, then suddenly asked, "The millions I spent on buying land and building the factory... were given to me by you, right?"
A sudden, unexpected straight shot.
Rong Zhaonan paused for a moment as he picked up the water glass, the refreshing scent of lemon lingering in his nostrils.
He remained silent for a few seconds, without answering immediately.
Ning Yuan raised an eyebrow, her tone remaining flat: "To be honest."
Rong Zhaonan's back tensed and straightened subconsciously, and he gave a low "hmm" as an admission.
Ning Yuan thought for a moment, then continued, "Where did the money come from? The Zhou family?"
At that time, she was desperately short of money, so she didn't hesitate to "sell" herself.
He wasn't rich either, and Uncle Rong didn't have much money either; it was all taken by this freeloader.
Rong Zhaonan knew he couldn't hide it from her. With all the experience she had gained over the years, she was no longer the educated youth who sold mountain goods at the county's secondhand market.
Ning Yuan already possessed the keen insight of a decision-maker.
He coughed lightly: "Well... the Zhou family raised the money overseas. My second uncle... sold the last manor."
Ning Yuan's beautiful eyebrows furrowed slightly: "Your second uncle? I remember the information said that he and Madam Zhou didn't get along well, they were practically rivals. Why would he suddenly be so kind as to sell the manor to raise money for you? And even help you forge an identity?"
As Rong Zhaonan listened to her rapid-fire questions, his tone unconsciously became scrutinizing.
He not only didn't find the plan problematic, but he also felt relieved.
She finally asked questions, investigated, and developed a desire to explore him as a person.
This was different from before, when she would respond indifferently to whatever he said or did, but keep him out of her heart.
He only wanted to live a life where "it's good to have him, but I can live without him"—that's what suffocated him!
Rong Zhaonan hesitated for a moment, then organized his thoughts: "Second Uncle... is fighting with my mother for the family property, but he is ambitious but not very capable, especially in business."
"After my mother passed away, he took over some businesses, but he mismanaged them and liked to make investments on his own, currying favor with foreign politicians in an attempt to climb the social ladder."
He gave a barely perceptible sneer: "In the end, he did spend a lot of political donations, such as funding Evan, but he didn't gain any real benefits. Instead, he made a mess of things and had to give back double what he had taken in."
Ning Yuan thought about it and realized that Evan was actually the most useful one...
At least "Zhou Yan" was used.
Rong Zhaonan continued, "He squandered a lot of the Zhou family's wealth, and his own health deteriorated year by year."
"A few years ago, when the mainland was reforming and opening up, he had the idea of returning to China to try his best to make a comeback, which could be considered as returning to his roots."
"He wrote a letter to my father... Rong Wenwu. That's how we made contact. As for whether my second uncle can make it after he comes back, that's up to him."
Ning Yuan listened quietly. It turned out that the Rong family had already re-established contact with this second uncle of the Zhou family several years ago.
No wonder... no wonder that when Rong Zhaonan got into trouble, the identity of "Zhou Yan" appeared so naturally.
She raised her eyes, her gaze sharp as she looked at him: "So, 'Zhou Yan' is a complete fake? A total fabrication?"
Rong Zhaonan met her gaze and sighed softly, "Well, now there's nothing we can't say about Zhou Yan's identity; it's definitely fake."
Ning Yuan asked in bewilderment, "What about the complete set of identity information? Nationality, resume, photos at various ages... even Interpol records, how could these be faked? And right under the noses of those intelligence agencies?"
Rong Zhaonan met her probing gaze and said frankly, "Zhou Yan is fake. All the information and photos are forged. We have people inside the CIA, and they are very high-ranking. It's not difficult for them to produce these things."
"With inside help, it's not an impossible task to forge academic credentials, photos from different periods, and even fabricate news reports and social records to completely 'confirm' the identity of 'Zhou Yan.' As for Interpol, we can get in with a little maneuvering."
Ning Yuan suddenly realized that decades later, even with such modern systems and surveillance, international fraudsters would still be rampant.
Moreover, without the internet and with surveillance everywhere, it would indeed be possible to create a "Zhou Yan".
Rong Zhaonan continued, "As for Second Uncle, all he needs to do is spread the word to Evan and his people that his nephew went to study in the United States during high school, is wild by nature, and doesn't contact his family much. That will explain why they've never seen 'Zhou Yan' before."
"With the corroboration of the 'intelligence' provided by the CIA, their allies naturally believed it without a doubt."
Ning Yuan was still shocked; there was such a huge and meticulous plan behind this.
Even if it's not the internet age decades from now, every step still needs to be flawless.
She paused for a moment, then suddenly remembered something else: "Then... what about those rumors about you and your foreign girlfriends, even female celebrities? Were those also false?"
Rong Zhaonan's expression instantly became somewhat subtle, yet unusually serious: "The rumors are true... but only in newspapers and in front of the camera."
He met Ning Yuan's scrutinizing gaze with an upright expression: "That was a deliberate illusion created at various parties and public occasions to fit the arrogant persona of 'Zhou Yan,' that playboy."
Ning Yuan crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and said in a tone that was hard to define: "Although Superintendent Zhou's job is dangerous, it also has quite a few 'benefits'."
Rong Zhaonan straightened his back even more, his face more serious than ever before, and he even raised his voice slightly—
"Comrade Ning Yuan, this isn't about welfare! This is a matter of principle! I can't make a mistake on this kind of thing, and I certainly won't allow myself to become corrupt and degenerate!"
If this matter can't be explained clearly, he's finished!
Ning Yuan remained expressionless: "Superintendent Zhou, you don't need to be nervous."
Rong Zhaonan: "I'm not nervous!"
Ning Yuan looked down at her: "...Is that so? Then why are you kneeling to answer?"
He didn't realize that his sitting position on the edge of the bed had changed into a kneeling position with his knees on the mattress.
Rong Zhaonan coughed tactically, his face turning red: "Cough cough..."
Seeing his expression, Ning Yuan forced a hint of docility onto her usually aloof and handsome face.
Too lazy to point it out, she put down her cup and said, "The soup is simmering in the kitchen. Just keep an eye on the heat and turn it off when it's almost done. I've already called and made an appointment with a familiar traditional Chinese medicine doctor. He'll come over tomorrow to examine you and prescribe some medicine to regulate your body. You should get some rest."
Before he could finish speaking, Rong Zhaonan, who was about to get up, suddenly started coughing violently while holding his water glass!
"Cough...cough cough cough!"
He choked on water, coughing violently. His handsome face turned red instantly, and even his neck flushed slightly.
Warm water spilled out, soaking a large area of his clean black thin shirt.
She acted like she was "too weak to take care of herself"!
Ning Yuan frowned and turned her head: "..."
In the end, she couldn't help but take the dry towel he was using to dry his hair and wipe the water stains off him.
"At your age, how can you choke on water like this? Change your clothes, don't catch a cold!"
She unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt to let him breathe.
My fingertips inevitably touched his warm skin.
And then there's him... below his shoulder, the gunshot scar that has healed but still leaves a noticeable mark.
The scar felt uneven to the touch, and even through the thin skin, she could feel the path the bullet had left as it pierced her flesh.
Ning Yuan's fingers trembled suddenly, as if she had been burned.
Before she could make a move, Rong Zhaonan gently covered the back of her hand with his.
His cough gradually subsided, and his moist, gentle breath brushed past her ear: "It's alright, it's just a minor injury, it's already healed."
His voice had a seductive power, like a feather gently scratching at the tip of her heart.
"I will be fine from now on, and I will never let you worry again."
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting interplay of light and shadow on his body.
Rong Zhaonan's soft, thin black shirt was half-open, outlining his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
The steam from the shower hadn't completely dissipated; my hair was still slightly damp and carried a refreshing minty and herbal scent.
He seems to have lost some weight recently, which may be due to not training or sunbathing much, making his skin appear even fairer.
Although he's gotten a bit older, in his early thirties, he still has a youthful air about him when he stares at people up close.
His beautiful phoenix eyes, now reddened at the corners, were deep and clear, shimmering with a heart-stopping light.
Ning Yuan lowered her eyes: "You're not using fougère perfume anymore?"
A dark glint flashed in Rong Zhaonan's eyes. He leaned closer to her and smiled, "Yes, the old flavor was too strong. We changed to the mint flavor we used to use. Doesn't it smell better? I won't smoke anymore."
Smoking and wearing fougère perfumes are both necessary for the persona.
Ning Yuan understands.
only……
Ning Yuan looked at his long, slender neck and sexy collarbone that he deliberately exposed to her: "..."
Her native language is speechlessness.
He certainly knew where his physical advantages lay.
Ning Yuan simply avoided his overly intense gaze, but gently stroked his scar with her fingers: "Let me... take another look at your injuries."
She felt uneasy unless she confirmed it with her own eyes.
Those photos were terrifying, and Lao Xu's words about "short lifespan" pierced my heart like needles.
Rong Zhaonan's eyes flickered slightly, and he nodded obediently.
His slender fingers unbuttoned the remaining buttons of his shirt one by one, revealing his well-muscled upper body.
Ning Yuan's breath hitched slightly.
Apart from the scar that ran through his left shoulder and several other scars of varying depths on his back and abdomen, there were not many obvious signs of old injuries on his smooth skin.
This doesn't fit the image of someone who has experienced countless life-or-death battles and infiltrated behind enemy lines for many years.
But she also understood that it was definitely not because he had never been injured.
Rather, it was to make his identity as "Zhou Yan," a rich young master, more believable.
Those scars, big and small, that exposed his past experiences, were treated with the most advanced and painful medications and surgeries in the United States.
In addition, his healing ability and physique are much stronger than those of ordinary people, which is why he has the seemingly "perfect" body in front of him.
The few that survived are "medals" left behind to "prove" that he once "risked his life" for Interpol.
However, upon closer inspection, one will notice that the skin texture in some areas is not quite right, and it is also different from normal skin. The fine blood vessels under the skin appear to be an abnormal color.
What kind of patching, cracking, and rebuilding process lies beneath this seemingly smooth and resilient skin?
Beneath this seemingly intact skin lie countless stitches and tears.
Ning Yuan's slender fingers gently traced the most hideous scar on his left shoulder, and then slowly slid towards another old wound on his chest that was slightly lighter in color.
Those scars that were "treated" did not disappear; they were simply covered up by deeper pain and more advanced technology.
Ning Yuan's fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and her eyes instantly reddened, welling up with a thin layer of mist.
Rong Zhaonan felt a pang of pain in his heart. He took her slightly cool hand and guided it to press against his heart.
It allowed her to clearly feel the steady and powerful heartbeat beneath her palm.
"Knock knock, knock knock..."
A strong, powerful heartbeat was clearly transmitted through her thin chest cavity to her palm.
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