When Tang Mi returned to the hotel suite, everyone was sitting in the living room waiting for her.

“You were amazing today, darling!” Simon whistled and gave her a thumbs-up.

Even JR couldn’t help but praise, “Indeed, very impressive. Even a trained female agent couldn’t act this naturally.”

“Shut up, JR!” Arthur, who had been standing by the window smoking, suddenly growled. The neon lights outside reflected on his smooth face, casting a dazzling, surreal glow, but there was no warmth in it. A chilling cold radiated from his raised eyebrows, lowering the temperature around him to freezing. Yes, her performance today was excellent—every action, look, and detail was flawless, including that kiss with Emir.

But he still couldn’t suppress his anger and frustration. Just the thought of Emir’s passionate and possessive gaze when he kissed her made him want to kill him. What infuriated him even more was why she agreed to Yise’s plan in the first place!

In contrast to Arthur’s agitation, Tang Mi only felt exhausted—a kind of weariness that seeped through her bones, so tired that she had no energy to figure out why he was angry, even though she had almost perfectly completed the task. She shrugged, quietly unbuttoned her silk blouse, and handed it to Simon. Seeing Simon’s eyes widen at her in her tight tank top, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, she suddenly snapped, “Don’t ask where the palm print is! You all saw it, didn’t you?” After saying that, she sighed, lowered her arms, and said, “I’m very tired; I’m going back to my room first.”

The warm water flowed over her body, easing her taut nerves. In the hazy mist, Tang Mi looked at her slender waist and flat stomach, suddenly remembering Emir’s fingers—long, pale, and as delicate as a poet’s. She could even imagine those elegant hands accepting flowers from orphanage children during the day and caressing bloodstained weapons at night. When those saved from the ravages of war held his hands with tears of gratitude in the hospital, did they ever imagine that those same hands had created their deepest suffering?!

He was like a devil cloaked in the robes of a savior, wielding the scythe of death.

“This cursed demon!” An uncontrollable wave of nausea rose from Tang Mi’s chest. She squeezed a large amount of body wash into her hand and scrubbed fiercely at the areas Emir had touched, as if even his touch through her clothes was intolerable.

Only when her delicate skin turned a painful red from the pressure did the suffocating feeling inside her finally begin to cool down, though a trace of cold hatred also started to rise.

Who was truly responsible for everything she was going through today?

Tang Mi lifted her face, turned the water up, and let the strong spray hit her face, bringing a stinging sensation. In the small, sharp pains, she silently called out the name that brought her both pain and helplessness—Arthur.

A few nights ago, Tang Mi had woken up in the middle of the night, and when she quietly went to the living room to get a glass of water, she unexpectedly overheard Arthur and Yise’s conversation on the balcony.

“Arthur, our plan has been perfect up to this point, but there’s still one last hurdle,” Yises voice came from the darkness. “During our operation in two days, we’ll need someone to keep Emir occupied, to keep him out of his study for at least 45 minutes.”

“I understand. Do you have any suggestions?” Arthur asked.

“We both know Emir looks at Tang Mi with unusual interest, and Tang’s performance has always been outstanding. I suggest that she be the one to keep Emir’s busy, by whatever means necessary,” Yise replied, his voice calm and emotionless, like the ice water in Tang Mi’s hand, utterly devoid of warmth.

“No, I understand what you’re suggesting. But she hasn’t had any professional training; she can’t take on such a dangerous—I mean, such an important task,” Arthur argued.

“She doesn’t need training. She just has to sleep with Emir. Isn’t that every woman’s natural talent?” Yise’s tone was unwavering, filled with absolute certainty.

“No, I don’t agree with this plan.”

“Arthur, you should understand better than anyone else. During the operation, each of the four of us has a different task, but Tang is the only one who’s left unassigned, and Emir likes her. Who else could take on this responsibility besides her?” Yise’s tone had an uncharacteristic sharpness, cutting straight to the heart and leaving no room for escape.

“Yise, though you were once my teacher, I am the commander of this mission now. I’ll say it again: I do not agree with your proposal!” Arthur’s voice was low and resolute, like an invisible wall blocking Yise’s push.

“Are you letting that woman cloud your judgment? I’ve told you countless times: during missions, you cannot develop any feelings for your target or your teammates. Emotions make you weak, and if the enemy seizes the opportunity, you’ll not only risk your life but also endanger those around you. Yet you’re throwing all of that aside now—for Tang Mi!” Yise pressed him with a harsh tone, so cold and sharp that Tang Mi could feel it through the silent air.

“Yise, I respect you, so don’t push me!” Arthur struggled to keep his voice down, but he couldn’t hide his agitation. Tang Mi had never seen him so out of control.

“It’s not me pushing you. This is a direct order from the highest commander of MI6. Arthur, that woman will be your fatal weakness. Think carefully about what you need to do,” Yise’s voice returned to its calm, chilling precision, like a finely crafted scalpel cutting straight to the heart, effortlessly.

Arthur fell silent. Tang Mi couldn’t see what was happening on the balcony; she could only hear Arthur’s heavy breathing in the darkness, like a struggling, cornered beast gasping for breath. He didn’t say “yes,” but he didn’t say “no” either.

Tang Mi gripped her glass tightly, feeling the chill from the ice seeping through to her fingertips, flowing into her veins, gathering, building, and finally crashing over her in a cold wave. She felt like a lone leaf caught in a stormy sea, surrounded by emptiness, without any support, tossed and torn by the violent waves.

Her limbs suddenly lost all strength, and Tang Mi slid down to the floor, leaning against the doorframe. Arthur’s silent acceptance felt like a vast abyss drawing her in, and she could only cling to the edge of despair, waiting to fall into oblivion.

In a daze, she remembered something he once said to her: “Give me 35mm of love, and I’ll give you the whole world.” Yes, this was the world he’d given her—a world that was cruel and unfeeling, where everything was just a matter of using and being used. How ironic!

Her lips curved into a faint smile, yet a warm tear slipped down her face, slowly tracing her numb, rigid cheek. In the thick darkness, it glinted with a cold blue hue, like silent mockery.

When Tang Mi finally felt she’d thoroughly cleansed herself, she slowly dried off, put on her nightgown, and stepped out of the bathroom. Arthur was sitting on the sofa in the bedroom, waiting for her.

“If you can’t stand Emir, why did you agree to Yise’s proposal?” Arthur looked up at her, his expression cold, his tone stern.

“I just wanted to finish the mission as soon as possible and leave this wretched place, away from you.” Tang Mi didn’t look at him. She pulled the towel from her hair, turned to the mirror, and calmly dried the damp ends, her face indifferent and her eyes vacant, as if she were speaking to thin air.

“You’re so eager to escape from me? So much so that you’d sacrifice yourself to lure Emir?” Arthur’s cold voice cut through the silence, giving it an odd sense of unfamiliarity in the quiet room.