Chapter 42

The hazardous waste disposal factory next to Leibo Street in Yokohama was surrounded by people from the port mafia.

The face of the city was half-hidden in the darkness, and the miserable white moonlight penetrated into the cracks in the bones, forcing the pests bred under the rotten giant to have nowhere to hide.

Standing on the viaduct, Seiji Kono looked into the distance in the direction of the factory, where a furnace specially built to incinerate dangerous drugs was built, waiting for his instructions to be passed down so that work could start immediately.

There were also some people standing behind him.

The action team in black suits and black sunglasses temporarily took on the job of guarding and stopped ten meters away to wait for instructions. The centurion wearing a monocle bowed slightly and handed the list in his hand to the calm-looking boy.

It took four months to turn over the Yokohama underground, and more than a thousand kilograms of smuggled drugs were seized. There were more than twenty conflicts of varying sizes with other organizations in Kanto... The black trade that the government had turned a blind eye to was cut off by the port mafia.

No citizens came to present banners, and the authorities would not turn a blind eye to the criminal records of the port mafia members. A large amount of manpower and financial resources were wasted, which only deepened the conflicts between various forces. It was actually a thankless task for the Mori Owl outsiders.

However, Mori Ougai is a shrewd businessman. After weighing the pros and cons, this list is the evidence that he has kept his promise.

Gongye Shengliang took it, looked at it for a few seconds and put it down again. He was not worried that Mori Ou would falsify the information. It has come to this point and there is no point in using tricks.

He folded the list in half and held it in the air, then pulled out a lighter from his outer pocket.

A bright fire suddenly ignited in the darkness, and the flames rushed to engulf the paper with confidential information written on it. The brilliant light illuminated the eyes and also illuminated the emptiness on the face.

Watching from a close distance as the flames were only a millimeter away from burning the fingertips, yet the boy showed no reaction at all, Guangjin Liulang's heart skipped a beat and he couldn't help but want to step forward to warn him.

Before he could open his mouth, Gongye Shengliang's hand trembled slightly, and the ashes, still with faint sparks and residual heat, were blown away by the wind.

The gray-haired boy withdrew his gaze, frowned slightly, and coughed a few times. He pulled his coat up uncomfortably and whispered to Guangjin Liulang, "Go ahead."

The centurion nodded and withdrew.

But before leaving, Guangjin Liulang said with a hint of worry, "If you are not feeling well, I can take over the subsequent work of the incineration for you."

"It's okay," Kono Seira smiled at him, "Go on."

--

At the end of the month, and at the end of the year, a private plane from Europe landed in Yokohama with the expected victory results.

After the arduous year-end job report was over, the brightly lit headquarters building of the Port Mafia was filled with a warm atmosphere brought by the New Year holiday. Of course, there were also a small number of people who were extremely depressed due to the sudden overtime notice.

Kono Seiryoshi was somewhere in between, feeling neither happy nor sad. He signed his last report of the day, his calm mood only slightly fluctuating when his eyes touched his phone.

In the center of the screen, which had never been turned off since the first message appeared, was displayed the name of Nakahara Chuuya.

Two hours ago, Zhongya sent a message saying that he was back. Maybe he felt that just one line of text was too casual, so he called me directly.

The rising voices drowned out the whistling wind, as bright and unrestrained as ever. The more than two months of separation were instantly compressed into a thin piece of paper, and they could touch each other with just a light poke.

Listening to the familiar voice, Kono Seiryoshi was in an uncontrollable trance for a while.

His reaction, which was delayed for a few seconds, was almost immediately caught by the other party. After a brief silence, Nakahara Chuuya's tone was a little uncomfortable and cautious: "Am I disturbing you so late at night?" He stopped talking in annoyance, and let out a light click of the tongue after walking away from the microphone.

“…How could that be?” Kono Seiryoshi shook his head subconsciously.

He picked up the calendar on the table and circled a number. "New Year's Day is coming soon. Do you have any plans?"

"Ah?...Ah, no, no." When I answered, the person on the other side suddenly became uneasy.

"Let me check... um." After looking at the introduction on the website, Kono Seiryoshi put down his pen and said in distress, "It's a bit late to make an appointment now. If I go to the shrine to worship, there will probably be a lot of people, and I won't be able to get a good seat."

"It's okay if you don't pay your respects!" As if he was afraid that he would regret it, Nakahara Chuuya interrupted him quickly, "Other activities are also fine, for example..."

He got stuck in the middle of his sentence, as he had few memories of welcoming the new year with important people.

When living with the "sheep" in Leibo Street, the most dangerous time is the New Year when people tend to relax. During those days, Nakahara Chuuya dared not be careless for a moment and had to pay attention to any movement outside at all times.

Later, he came to the Port Mafia, where he had some trustworthy friends around him, but in the end, he was alone again. For more than three years, he either spent the New Year working overtime or completely forgot about it. Only the New Year greetings from his subordinates in his mailbox reminded him that he seemed to have missed something.

Nakahara knew that ordinary people would stay up together during the New Year and visit shrines or temples, but he didn't know what it would feel like to do these things.

The other side of the screen seemed to chuckle softly, and the gentle voice contained a slight smile, "Then, can you let me take care of Chuuya's New Year's Eve?"

"I just thought of a show. It might be a little hasty, but I think you might like it."

--

December 31st, 10pm.

The target of this mission is an intelligence dealer who provides false information. He has cooperated with the port mafia for decades, but still cannot escape the temptation of the rat. If Dazai Osamu had not made a decisive decision to retreat, an armed team and a precious superpower would have been lost at the explosion site.

The thin man was killed by a single blow, his eyes wide open before his eyes seemed to be unable to understand why his intelligence was so slow.

Dazai Osamu dug out a square safe from the basement. He wiped the dust off his hands with a handkerchief and paused as he walked out of the intelligence dealer's apartment. "Burn it together with the body."

The subordinates who had to work overtime during the New Year were complaining in their hearts, but they did not dare to show any dissatisfaction on the surface. They nodded solemnly to make way for the executives, and when they turned around, they looked at each other and saw the same doubt in each other's eyes - is Lord Dazai's style of work so gentle today?

Every detail of the port mafia's revenge on traitors is cruel and abnormal. Even if a person dies, the corpse can continue to spit out more intelligence. Not to mention that this is an apartment where an intelligence dealer often lives. There may be secrets in every corner. How can it be burned so easily?

However, they did not dare to object to Dazai Osamu, and believed in the decision of the executives, and immediately set out to sprinkle gasoline inside and outside the apartment.

With the burning fire as the background, Dazai Osamu opened his cell phone.

There is an email lying quietly in it. I received it yesterday and haven't opened it today. However, the sender carefully wrote keywords in the subject of the email, so I can guess it roughly even without reading the specific content.

The time is tonight, one hour later; the location is in a park behind the port mafia building where no one dares to go.

Dazai Osamu stared at the email, his fingers trembled hesitantly for a few times, but in the end he did not dare to open it.

He stood there for as long as the firelight behind him lasted. The screen automatically went off, fully reflecting his lost look.

"Lord Dazai, the mission is complete. We have confirmed that no traces were left behind." The subordinate reported, paused, and asked cautiously, "The next mission is in the direction of the port. Should we go there now?"

In the darkness, the aura around the black-haired officer suddenly turned cold. Before his subordinates could reflect on what they had done wrong, they heard a low-pitched order from the front: "Return to the headquarters first."

--

At 11:45, Gongye Shengliang put away his watch and sighed in his heart.

Dazai probably won't come over.

He knew without anyone telling him that the other party had misunderstood what happened that day, but what could he do? Should he pat Dazai on the shoulder and tell him "You are not hated" and then perform a self-spelling on the spot?

Imagining the scene in his mind, Gongye Shengliang held his forehead in pain and glanced at his watch out of habit.

There are only ten minutes left until the New Year...

Chuuya noticed him checking his watch so often, tilted his head, and looked at him intently: "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just afraid of being late." Kono Seiryoshi came to his senses and looked back, "How do you feel tonight?"

Nakahara Chuuya opened his mouth: "Of course——"

Yu; Xi; Qi; Li——

How could it be bad? He even felt that he had been so busy for more than two months just for this day!

For the first time, I experienced sitting in a warm futon while watching the Red and White Songs Contest, placing oranges on the kagami rice cakes, writing New Year's greetings to each other face to face and agreeing to open them the next day, and...

He also received New Year's money.

When Nakahara Chuuya received the envelope, he didn't react until he saw the words on it. His face suddenly turned red. He almost jumped out of the quilt, and he strongly resisted this behavior of treating him like a child: "Isn't this something that the elders give to the younger generation? And I'm already 18 years old!"

The person opposite him took back his hand and stared at him, hesitant to speak: "Really?"

"Absolutely—no!"

"Take it. I heard that it's very popular to give New Year jade to close friends recently."

“……!”

The auburn-haired boy hesitated, his eyes evasive, "...Really?"

Gongye Shengliang nodded without changing his expression. He had the final say on the story he wrote.

A soothing piece of music was playing during the Red and White Song Contest. He smiled again as he listened to the delicate voice of the singer and the clear sound of the violin. "Take it. This is a token of my love."

Nakahara Chuuya suddenly stopped avoiding her gaze and looked at her with a serious look. His lips slowly curved up and he forced himself to hold it back. He clenched his fist and coughed, "...There's nothing we can do about it."

He picked up the envelope containing the New Year's money, which he had just regarded as a hot potato, and put it carefully into his inside pocket. When he was about to take his hand away, he felt reluctant to let go and silently stroked the slightly concave ink mark written by his own hand on it.

Until now, the envelope is still close to my heart, emitting a burning temperature.

Nakahara Chuuya suppressed his slightly beating heart and suddenly remembered something. He asked curiously, "By the way, why did we come out?"

Gongye Shengliang laughed, thinking that she had followed him out like a fool without knowing anything.

He replied: "Because the last show is an outdoor show." A gust of cold wind blew, and Gongye Shengliang couldn't help but shiver.

The coat was already thick enough, and if he put it on he would be wrapped up like a ball. After being out for only a short while, his palms felt cold as if they could not retain heat. It was not the clothes that were to blame for his physical condition.

My hand, which was starting to feel stiff from the cold, was naturally held in a warm place. The other person's palm was even drier, and his fingers were even stronger, holding it tightly as if he wanted to transfer his body temperature to me.

"What show?" Nakahara Chuuya lowered his voice and asked while looking at him.

Gongye Shengliang was startled and the watch on his wrist vibrated slightly.

The time has come.

The garden seemed deserted because few people visited it. In deep winter, only bare short trees were left. Under the cold moonlight, the shadows of the branches fell obliquely at my feet.

In the shadow, a white petal suddenly jumped out.

In the blink of an eye, the light quickly extended to the farthest end of the field of vision, as if it was spreading all the way to the sky in an invisible place. The petals trembled lightly in the wind, and the slender, soft white night-blooming cereus spread out in an instant, condensing all the moonlight on the sea of ​​flowers in front of me.

A moment of beauty, a second of eternity. *

Nakahara Chuuya's breathing stopped, and his eyes were filled with pure white and gorgeous scenery.

Amid the floating fragrance, a familiar voice came from beside me, easily stirring up the throbbing in my chest: "Happy New Year, Chuuya."

--

In the blind spot, the black-haired boy took in the entire scene.

He sneered in his heart, and his drooping eyelashes concealed the complex emotions in his eyes. When his eyes dropped, he noticed a lonely Epiphyllum at his feet, just like him.

For some unknown reason, Dazai Osamu squatted down silently and stretched out his hand.

However, the moment his fingertips touched the petals, the soft and beautiful Epiphyllum disappeared like a dream.

Dazai Osamu's hand froze in mid-air.

"... Lord Dazai," the subordinate hesitated for a long time, and finally stepped forward and whispered, "It's almost too late for the next mission..."

The black-haired boy with his back to everyone seemed not to have heard anything. The Mafia cadre, who was always so capable that even the enemy organizations would shudder at the mention of him, now acted like a child who accidentally broke his favorite toy and didn't know how to fix it.

He kept his hand outstretched, with a rare look of panic on his face.