Chapter 23.2

At that moment, a tall man in a red devil costume walked in from the door.

He wore a suit resembling that of British nobility, looking handsome and elegant. He stood about 1.9 meters tall, with muscular legs and chest, indicating he was a man of great strength.

People in the bar began to murmur with admiration, whispering to each other, wondering who he was.

Mo Zimu took a deep breath as the devil walked directly toward him.

According to British ball tradition, the first dance was always open to anyone, and by chance, Mo Zimu was wearing a dark gray Faust costume while the man was dressed in a red Mephistopheles devil costume.

Almost everyone assumed this was Mo Zimu’s invited dance partner.

Marsha immediately covered her mouth and exclaimed, “Oh my God…”

Normally, the first dance was always started by the tavern owner, Jane. But the devil, making a grand entrance, extended his hand toward the Faust who had been hiding in the corner. They stole everyone’s attention, and even Jane forgot her own performance.

“Come on, baby, don’t disappoint your friends. Give them a great show.” The devil said with a grin.

Mo Zimu almost reluctantly placed his hand into the devil’s large palm. The devil’s hand was powerful, calloused, emphasizing his strength.

“Can you not be so dramatic?” Mo Zimu asked.

“Dramatic? You think getting a Mephistopheles costume was the hard part? The real challenge was finding someone with a body like yours. Come on, Faust is meant to dance with the devil.”

“Well, you know best!”

“Since the piece of Faust you left behind at the Mammon, I’ve been studying it carefully. Now I have quite a bit of insight!” Ivan said, performing a graceful step as he skillfully twirled Mo Zimu.

“So you can tell Faust is meant to dance with Mephistopheles?”

“That’s Faust’s ultimate fate, and his most blissful end!”

“Bullshit!”

“Watch your language, baby. You’re studying art, remember!” Ivan raised his hand to guide Mo Zimu in a spin, but Mo Zimu remained still, saying calmly, “I don’t do feminine steps.”

Ivan chuckled. “Alright, then I will.” He suddenly crouched down and spun under Mo Zimu’s hand like a cartoon character, sending the crowd into laughter and applause.

Standing tall again, Ivan pulled Mo Zimu into his arms and said with flair, “See, baby, a man’s worth isn’t decided by this.”

“Then what is it decided by?”

Ivan pulled off his mask, revealing his playful smile. He slowly removed Mo Zimu’s mask, gazing at his handsome face, and smiled, “I want to win, but I won’t let you lose.”

Then, he kissed Mo Zimu on the lips, and they shared a passionate kiss in front of everyone.

Marsha covered her mouth and grabbed Jane’s arm. “Oh my God… oh my God…”

Jane took a deep breath and said, “This man’s build is huge, but that’s fine as long as Mo can handle it!”

Mo Zimu, slightly out of breath, looked into those deep-set eyes, realizing that he must have lost his mind earlier.

“Seven, let’s get married!”

Ivan said it so casually, like he had just told Mo Zimu to put on slippers or to eat. But Mo Zimu’s lips trembled slightly, and he replied, “I haven’t decided if I want to spend my life with someone like you.”

Ivan smirked. “Baby, I’m not perfect, but I’m just right for you!”

“Stop being shameless. Who said you’re just right for me?”

“Stop acting so stiff, like a stick. If I’m not the right fit, then I won’t force myself on you!”

The music stopped, and Mo Zimu picked up his clothes, heading for the door. Ivan followed behind, laughing, “Hey, hey, you’re not like a woman, are you? You like hearing compliments?”

“Go to hell!” Mo Zimu turned and kicked him hard.

Ivan grabbed him, pulling Mo Zimu into his arms. “Look, it’s snowing! Let’s go home and make love!”

Mo Zimu rolled his eyes and said, “What does snow have to do with making love?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, smiling. “It’s to get warm by taking our clothes off!”

The words sounded warm, but with Ivan’s lazy, playful tone, there was an unmistakable hint of something far more suggestive.

Mo Zimu couldn’t help but imagine certain scenes, his face turning red as he cursed, “You bastard!”

They were close, laughing and teasing each other, looking like any other ordinary couple to anyone watching.

But suddenly, Mo Zimu’s expression changed. Ivan turned around, only to see Merlin, dressed in a black priest’s outfit, standing coldly a few meters away.

Ivan furrowed his brow and muttered, “That little priest again!”

As soon as Mo Zimu saw Merlin, he instinctively took a couple of steps back, feeling a sudden sense of shame.

“Seven, come here!” Merlin called.

“Don’t go!” Ivan said sharply.

Mo Zimu pulled away from Ivan’s grip and said, “You go ahead.”

By then, the snow had started falling harder, the flurry of snowflakes drifting through the air. The colorful Christmas trees seemed even more festive against the wintery backdrop.

Merlin stood beside a black car. Mo Zimu said nothing as he got in, and Merlin sat beside him. The car started, and Mo Zimu gazed silently out the window.

The car stopped by the seaside, and the driver turned off the engine and got out.

Merlin remained silent. He usually stammered when speaking and was a kind person, rarely losing his temper. But when he did, he could become a completely different person, and everyone had to bow to him. Those who were accustomed to his gentleness would fear his harshness. Rong Qing was like that, and Mo Zimu too.

Mo Zimu sighed deeply, finally breaking the silence. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you a question.”

“What… do you want to ask?”

“If I really died, would you forgive Rong Qing and start over with him? Would you stop self-destructing and be with that bastard again?”

Mo Zimu turned his head, staring at the roaring sea under the night sky. “Lin Lin… please, stop tormenting me. I’ve kept my promise. Since he chose you, please respect that outcome, alright?”

“You haven’t!” Merlin replied coldly.

“I have!”

“You knew clearly that Rong Qing wouldn’t kill me. You did it on purpose. You never had any intention of fulfilling your promise!”

“Merlin, please be fair. Am I supposed to live a painful life with someone I no longer love, just to keep a promise?”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not!”

“Do you dare say that, on that night, you didn’t truly believe everything that happened was a dream? Or did you, like Rong Qing, secretly hope it was just a nightmare? That you and he were still lovers, that he hadn’t hurt you, and that there was still a chance for happiness?”

Mo Zimu remained silent for a long time, holding back his tears. Finally, they started to fall as he said, “So you know there’s no chance for happiness between me and Rong Qing…”

Merlin’s coldness seemed to shatter the moment he saw Mo Zimu’s tears. He reached out and pulled him into an embrace. “If you really feel that living with Rong Qing is so difficult, then prove it to me. Show me that you can be happy!”

When Mo Zimu returned home, Ivan was baking butter cookies. As soon as he saw Mo Zimu, he turned and said, “You’re back!”

“Mm.”

“Sit down and wait for the food!”

“Mm.”

“Here’s your milk tea!”

Mo Zimu glanced at the cup and asked, “Why milk tea?”

Ivan smiled. “Because it suits both our tastes. You like tea, and I like milk!”

The butter cookies were baked perfectly crispy. Mo Zimu and Ivan sat on the stairs, eating cookies. Mo Zimu asked, “How many people have you killed?”

“Many…” Ivan answered with a faint smile.

“And how many more will you kill?”

“Probably many more…” Ivan shrugged.

Mo Zimu smiled faintly, finishing the milk tea in his cup. “You’re better at cooking than me, but Americans still can’t brew milk tea as well as the British. An Englishman once told me that for milk tea to taste good, the milk has to be a lot, but never more than one-quarter. If it’s more than that, the tea becomes too rich!”

Ivan chuckled. “Next time, I’ll make sure it’s no more than one-quarter.”

At that moment, Sticks entered.

Mo Zimu took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want to see him. I’m going upstairs!”

He grabbed a butter cookie and, with it in his mouth, ran up the stairs, stomping his feet. Sticks made a face at his back, saying, “Good, I don’t really like seeing you either!” Then he turned to Ivan, who was chewing the cake slowly. “Boss, honestly, Mike isn’t bad. He’s one of us, and it’s easier when it comes to… you know, bed matters. This Seven, though, he looks like a kid, but he’s full of scheming… Look at him. He just leaves and even secretly grabs the stick by the stairs. You’d better watch out for him trying to pull something tonight.”

Just as he finished speaking, Ivan put down the plate and quickly rushed upstairs, with Sticks right behind him.

The bedroom door was already closed. Ivan tried pushing it, but it wouldn’t budge, something blocking it from inside. Ivan kicked the door hard, and the lower half of the door flew open. A stick fell to the floor, and behind it was a cabinet. Behind the cabinet was a bed.

The two of them hurried inside. Sticks took a quick glance and said, “He came back to grab something!”

Ivan didn’t respond. Instead, he walked over to the open window and looked out. He could see Mo Zimu running fast ahead, his coat billowing in the night wind and his black hair fluttering. Ivan watched until Mo Zimu’s figure was swallowed by the darkness before he smiled faintly and said, “He took his passport. His name is Mo Zimu now. Quite a nice Chinese name.”

“Let’s lock down this whole town, I don’t believe we can’t catch him!” Sticks muttered through gritted teeth.

“No rush…” Ivan’s words trailed off as they heard the sound of a door opening downstairs.

Someone else had a key to this house. Could it be the landlord?

“Mo Zimu, are you there? It’s me, I’m here!”

The voice had a standard New York accent. Compared to the British formal speech, this English sounded smoother, and Ivan’s face darkened.

The person in the living room had just taken off his coat when he was knocked down with a quick blow. A leather shoe pressed down on his forehead. Someone looked down at him and then coldly remarked, “Oh, a big shot. Andy, the boss of Davy…”

“You… who are you?” Andy stammered.

Ivan sat down on the couch and smiled. “So Seven’s external contact is you… I knew he had such wide connections!”

“Wait, don’t misunderstand! I’m just Seven’s lawyer!” Andy raised his hands in surrender.

“Old acquaintance, huh? So you know he’s called Seven,” Ivan said slowly, tapping a cigarette on the pack. Andy was sweating heavily.

Ivan lit the cigarette and then said coolly, “Since you’re Seven’s friend, I suppose we should be polite…?”

As soon as Sticks heard this, he sneered, pressing his shoe down harder. Andy screamed in pain.

Ivan took a deep breath, glared at Sticks, and said, “Sticks… I meant polite, not this!”

Only then did Sticks realize that his boss was referring to politeness in the literal sense. He reluctantly pulled his foot back and helped Andy up.

Andy straightened up and quickly scanned the man in front of him. This person’s face looked vaguely familiar, but despite his sharp memory, he couldn’t recall who he was.

It was cold, yet the man was only wearing a black long-sleeve T-shirt and blue jeans. The T-shirt’s collar was unbuttoned, faintly revealing a bit of chest hair. Paired with the man’s robust build, he exuded a certain rough charm. However, his deep-set eyes, occasionally flashing with light, revealed that he was someone shrewd and powerful.

“Sorry, lawyer, I didn’t realize you were one of us. Seven is my man! If you need anything, just tell me!” Ivan said, knowing that this thin man was no fool and was quite adept at reading the situation.

Andy forced a smile. Seven certainly had a knack for getting involved with difficult people.

Ivan continued, “So, how’s the top lawyer doing?”

“Well, I came here to warn him to be careful when going out… You must remember Davy’s former boss, Johnson, right? Well, he’s no longer connected to Davy at all. He’s wanted for framing Governor Kent…,” Andy said. As he saw Ivan’s expression grow more serious, he paused before continuing. “Johnson also has another role. He’s the personal lawyer for the Duke of Sutherland, handling all the legal documents for the duke’s estate. Although the Duke is British, he has never trusted the British government, so his personal lawyer is American, and that person is Johnson.”

Ivan furrowed his brow slightly and motioned for Andy to continue, “Go on!”

“Two years ago, the Duke of Sutherland asked Johnson to make a new will. In that will, he left eighty percent of his estate to Seven. I found out that recently, when Johnson was cornered, he sold the contents of this contract to the Duke’s eldest son… Kiefer!”

Ivan suddenly stood up, his face turning cold.

He turned to Sticks and said, “Inform everyone. Lock down all the exits of this town, and contact the Geoffrey family. Tell them I need their help finding someone!”