DTTM 45

Chapter 45: It has been a long time

Yes, That was indeed a significant oversight.

“I can explain.”

Fortunately, the problem was not serious. The truth and the falsehood were mixed up, and as long as there was no solid evidence, it could always be covered up.

He loosened his grip. The pure white mask obscured his facial features, yet I could still feel an intense stare.

I lifted the corners of my lips and gave him a sweet smile.

The man slowly withdrew his hand and straightened up.

“Speak.” A monotone electronic voice, devoid of emotion, flowed from behind the mask.

“Well…” Using my elbows as a fulcrum, I propped myself up and began to explain myself.

I told him that the reason I referred to Yu Xuan as WRA was because it was Yu Xuan’s insistence.

“He claimed that he rushed to Qunyu Mountain to rescue the Wo people after receiving news that they had been kidnapped by Wuxi Chen. Of course, this is only his side of the story. But as I told you that day: ‘What you do is your business, don’t drag me into it, I just want to live.’…”

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do, nor do I care whether Zhong Xiaoshan’s son was killed by Wuxi Chen or someone else… Since we are compatriots and what we’re doing is beneficial to the people, I will help you cover things up as long as it doesn’t endanger myself.”

“Yu Xuan is in an awkward position in Penglai, and it’s really not suitable for him to appear in the open. As for the Wo Republic Army, they’re not afraid of getting itchy when they have too many lice. Whether it’s one person or a group, it doesn’t matter. You two may have different goals, but… you’re not necessarily enemies.” I packaged everything as feelings of kinship with my compatriots. “So you see, since WRA hasn’t suffered any losses, why be so stingy?”

“You certainly have a lot of patriotism.” It was still an emotionless electronic voice, but I heard a hint of sarcasm in it.

I smiled gently, the curve of my lips quite high, my eyes slightly crinkled by the smile, giving me a perfectly innocent look.

“Everyone has their own difficulties. You are a Wo, so you should be very aware of this.”

As soon as I said that, he fell silent.

“Snap!” The bedside lamp suddenly turned on.

“How’s your injury?” The man turned off the switch and changed the subject.

I knew that, whether he believed it or not, I passed this hurdle for now.

“It’s just a minor cut and bruise. It’s been treated for a few days and is almost healed.”

The discomfort in my stomach became more and more pronounced over time, so I lay back down and rubbed my stomach with my hands under the hem of my pajamas.

I should have known better than to overindulge. This awful stomach of mine, how come even a couple of sips of beer triggered a reaction now…

“What’s wrong?” He lowered his face slightly, slipped his hand under the hem of my pajamas, pushed my hand away, and pressed firmly on various parts of my upper abdomen. “Where does it hurt?”

His gloves were cold and uncomfortable against my skin. I flinched, frowned, and pressed my other hand against him through my pajamas.

“…It’s cold.”

He paused for a moment, pulled his hand away, hesitated for a second, pinched the tip of his index finger, and pulled the black sheepskin glove out a bit. Then his middle finger, ring finger… until all five fingers were free from the tight wrapping. Only then did he hold the empty fingertips of the glove and casually throw the warm “fake skin” aside.

Beneath the gloves, his hands were long and powerful, with pale blue veins beneath the thin skin, undulating and extending to the wrist bone before being severed by the cuff. Even in the warm yellow light, his skin was remarkably pale, so plae that it didn’t seem like the skin tone of a Wo person.

This time, a warm, even slightly hot, hand slipped inside my clothes. The moment it touched my body, I couldn’t help but tremble, and almost reflexively, I pressed both hands against him through my clothes.

“What is it now?” Even through the mask, I could almost see his raised eyebrows and impatient expression.

“This is an old problem of mine, my stomach is upset,” I said. “Could you please go outside and get me a pill?”

He glanced towards the bedroom door, stood up, and asked, “Where’s the medicine?”

“Across from the table outside, in that cabinet, it should be… the first drawer, the white packaging box.”

He didn’t say anything, and turned to walk out.

I lay in bed, watching his departing figure, his back straight, his steps steady, his whole being like a sharp, unsheathed knife.

Appearance could be hidden, voice could be faked, but some things were hard to change even if you wanted to, such as body shape, and walking habits…

I closed my eyes and felt my fragile stomach cramp again.

Ugh, what a hassle.

The man searched outside for only a few minutes, maybe two or three minutes, before pushing the door open again and bringing me the pills and a glass of warm water.

“How did you get this disease?”

I put the medicine in my mouth, swallowed it with water, and mumbled, “These past few years, my meals have been irregular… Over time, I’ve ruined my stomach.”

I placed the water glass on the bedside table, and disregarding all “hospitality,” I lay down again in front of him, closed my eyes, and silently endured the dull pain in my stomach.

Suddenly, I felt something slip into the blanket. The next second, the other person’s hot hand once again slipped under my clothes and began to gently massage around my stomach.

“No…” I suddenly opened my eyes, trying to act like I was finally getting angry after being taken advantage of repeatedly, and made a move to get up, but he easily pinned me back down.

“Lie down.”

I lay back down following the pressure of his palm, subtly adjusting my position so he could more accurately massage the areas that were uncomfortable.

“I’ve asked everything I needed to ask, and I’ve told you everything I know. Aren’t you leaving yet?”

“Don’t you want to see me?” He paused, perhaps realizing his own question was a bit off, and rephrased it, “Do you hate me that much?”

I closed my eyes and smiled when I heard this: “My young master said that you took advantage of someone in distress, which is a despicable act, and told me to stay away from you.”

The hand pressed against my abdomen and stopped moving. The man chuckled softly: “Zong Yanlei?”

“Um.”

“You do whatever he tells you to do?”

The medication took gradually effect, but it didn’t soothe my pain first; instead, it made me feel drowsy.

“You’re asking too many questions.” I was so sleepy that my speech became slurred.

Perhaps sensing my weariness, he stopped asking questions and simply maintained the rhythm of his hand movements, his fingertips gently rubbing away the pain.

Before my consciousness completely sank into darkness, only two things seized my awareness: the effects of the medicine, which had finally subsided the pain, and… the damp touch on my lips, accompanied by a sigh.

‎

‎

The day after Wuxi Chen was “tried,” the Prime Minister’s Office urgently issued a “statement” denying everything. The statement claimed that autopsies on Wuxi Chen and several other “hunters” revealed that they had been injected with large amounts of hallucinogens and neurotoxins before their deaths.

The so-called “human hunt” referred to the WRA’s use of drugs to induce severe hallucinations and paranoia, inducing them to attack targets at the scene. In essence, these were not autonomous crimes, but rather a tactic used by terrorists to kill others.

The accusations against Wuxi Kunpeng were a despicable political frame-up, a vicious lie fabricated by the WRA to incite class hatred and create national unrest through drugs. The parts concerning the late Bishop Yi Yingzhen were particularly egregious, a blasphemy against the deceased.

Finally, the statement declared that the government would never compromise with terrorists, and that martial law would be declared nationwide immediately to launch a full-scale crackdown on the Wo Republic Army. It also called on the citizens of Penglai to remain rational and not become pawns in the hands of terrorists.

The statement was released in the morning, and before noon, rumors began to circulate in various places. People from Wo and even Penglai were detained and taken away for investigation without cause.

People were filled with anxiety.

“…This is a despicable political frame-up orchestrated by terrorists using prohibited biological and chemical methods…A solemn statement…”

Standing on the bustling royal avenue in Zengcheng, the giant electronic screens that yesterday were filled with Wuxi Chen’s manic laughter and bloody confessions were replaced by a completely different scene, a TV anchor siat upright in front of a solemn blue background, reading the Prime Minister’s statement in a clear, calm and professional voice.

At night, amidst the scattered gray-blue buildings, large and small colored screens were playing this scene, resembling a brainwashing attempt that was only half-heartedly concealed.

The fine rain, like silk threads, wove a hazy net. Pedestrians hurried along, and occasionally someone would stop and look up at the giant screen, their eyes filled with suspicion and wariness towards those in power.

No matter how Wuxi Kunpeng tried to distort the truth and spoke eloquently, the surface public opinion wave seemed to be forcibly suppressed, but the deep-seated contradictions lurking in the shadows were becoming clear in silence.

Fortunately, I was a public figure, and this matter involveed Zhong Xiaoshan’s son. Otherwise, Wuxi Kunpeng would have devised a more “reasonable” and convenient plan, and would have unhesitatingly labeled me and those children as terrorists, and killed them all once and for all.

“Sir, your flowers are ready.”

I looked away and took the bouquet of sunflowers I had personally chosen from the florist. The sunflowers of various colors were bundled together in layers of exquisite wrapping paper, golden yellow, milky white, and dark red intermingling in a cluster, like a work of art taken from a classical oil painting.

When I woke up this morning, I received a dinner invitation from Zong Yanlei, saying that Zong Yinzhuo missed me and insisted on seeing me.

Zong Yanlei seemed to really like the flowers I brought when I visited him last time, so I thought I’d pick out another bouquet this time. The sun hasn’t been shining in Baiyujing lately, so sunflowers would be perfect.

With the appointed time fast approaching, I grabbed the flowers, hurriedly hailed a hover taxi, and headed to Zong Yanlei’s mansion.

The journey was smooth and unobstructed. After getting off the taxi, I adjusted the silver brooch on my chest, and, carrying the bouquet of flowers, knocked on the heavy door.

After a while, the door slowly opened, and what appeared behind it was not the butler, but Zong Yanlei himself, who was slightly out of breath.

“I have something to tell you…”

“This is for you.”

We both spoke at the same time.

Seeing his anxious expression and slightly furrowed brow, I paused, realizing that something might have happened.

However, before I could even ask, a familiar yet unheard feminine voice rang out from the location blocked by the door, dignified, elegant, and with a standard aristocratic accent.

“What are you still standing there for? Now that you’re here, hurry up and come in. Xiao Mitang is getting hungry.” After saying that, a beautiful woman in a silver-gray business suit with her hair tied in a low ponytail appeared behind Zong Yanlei without warning, holding Zong Yinzhuo’s hand.

Like a thief, I quickly shoved the bouquet behind my back, and the next second, after questioning Zong Yanlei with my eyes, I flashed what I thought was my sweetest and most harmless smile at the woman.

“Madam, it’s been a long time.”

Even after six years apart, Wuxi Li hasn’t changed a bit.