Chapter 4: Captured

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The car drove through the desert, entering a sparse grassland. The altitude kept rising, and the air grew thinner. Under the setting sun, clouds transformed into wisps of light scattered across the sky—orange, bright red, light blue, and deep purple interwoven and moving forward slowly, dazzling like the aurora under the night sky.

This place is known as the “Roof of Africa.” Millions of years ago, it was a volcano, and now the hot lava has long cooled into a magnificent plateau. As far as the eye can see, it is the distilled essence of Africa, a thousand feet above, with its dry vibrancy and ethereal emptiness.

Tang Mi looked out the window. A group of white storks was flying overhead. Their white wings edged in black would rise and spread, gliding gracefully like large sails, gently cutting through the sandy golden air, heading toward the massive setting sun as if that was the last island in the journey of life.

Every time she saw such a scene, her blood would surge with inexplicable excitement and awe, and she would want to raise her camera to capture the moment and cherish it devoutly. If there were no accidents, she would likely be a photographer for life.

But the premise was “if there were no accidents,” and at this moment, she was in the midst of one. Whether she would see tomorrow’s sunrise was still a question. Sometimes, a lifetime is both distant and near.

“What are you looking at?” Arthur’s voice came from behind. He was sitting next to her, rummaging through her camera bag.

His beautiful blonde hair was tied neatly behind his head, not a strand out of place, just like his actions—precise and methodical.

“Storks,” Tang Mi coldly replied, glancing at his hands.

His fingers were long and pale, with an artistic elegance, but she had not forgotten how quickly they had pulled the trigger on her, as decisive and ruthless as they were graceful. Beneath the beautiful exterior always hid a cruel reality.

“Is it interesting?” Arthur’s gaze moved from the camera bag to her face. His expression was no longer as sharp and cold, but there was a subtle, condescending look of scrutiny and investigation.

Since they got into the car, he had been staring at her with that kind of gaze, making her uncomfortable. He didn’t seem like an ordinary businessman—not because of the “specialty” of the “goods” he was selling, but because of the overwhelming sense of power that he constantly exuded, as if he sought to understand and control everything. Tang Mi couldn’t understand—what was there for a businessman to control other than profits? If it was because she had taken his picture and now he had the memory card, killing her to silence her would only take a bullet. Why go through the trouble of taking her with him? Was it for money?

Yes, he must have seen the documents in her bag when he searched it. In a country in turmoil, kidnapping foreign journalists and photographers was easier than smuggling arms. At least the checks from internationally renowned magazines had a low chance of bouncing.

With this thought, she decided to talk to her captor, even though negotiating was never her strong suit. “It’s really interesting. Those storks start from Eastern Europe, crossing the deserts of Israel and Egypt. They reach Sudan and Kenya, and then they spend the whole winter here. When spring arrives, they’ll return the same way to their birthplace to give birth to their offspring.”

When she saw a joyful expression appear on Arthur’s face, Tang Mi shut her mouth, feeling foolish for discussing bird migration with an arms dealer. It was as laughable as discussing vegetarianism with a butcher.

She had started off on the wrong foot. Tang Mi felt a bit frustrated. She licked her dry lips and carefully chose her words. “What I meant was, I’m a photographer. If you allow me, I can call my colleagues, and they’ll bring the money.”

Suddenly, without warning, Arthur’s body pressed against hers, bringing with it an invisible pressure. His broad shoulders seemed like dark wings, enveloping her in a huge shadow.

“What I want is not money, but the memory card you’ve hidden, Miss Honey,” he said, raising the corner of his mouth. The teeth behind his thin lips glinted coldly in the shadow.

Tang Mi’s back was pressed tightly against the seat, her body instinctively shrinking back. A question kept circling in her mind: “How did he know about the second memory card?” She had switched the card with the speed of a professional—less than a second had passed between the two cards. She couldn’t imagine how he had seen her actions from a hundred meters away, just like she couldn’t imagine how he had spotted her in the jungle.

This man had too many unbelievable traits. The feeling of being fully seen and suppressed was something she had never experienced before. Her teeth were clenched tightly as she felt fear mixed with something cold running down her spine, soaking through her thin shirt.

“It’s Tang Mi, not Honey,” she corrected, trying to keep her voice calm.

As for how he spoke fluent Chinese, she no longer had time to consider the question.

“Oh? Sorry. But I still prefer to call you Honey, because you’re so sweet,” he smiled, his gaze shamelessly falling on her long, toned legs, slowly sliding along the thin fabric of her work shorts.

Her amber skin, like solidified honey, seemed to melt and flow inch by inch under his burning gaze.

This invisible violation was even more chilling than physical contact. Tang Mi clenched her fists, suppressing the urge to scream, and coldly turned her face away, saying, “The memory card is already in your hands. You personally took it out of the camera.”

“As a professional photographer, how could you only have one memory card with you? If you don’t want to talk now, that’s fine. I’m never short on patience. We still have plenty of time tonight, don’t we?

My dear Honey,” Arthur said, sensing her anger. He moved his body away, his expression cold, devoid of any desire.

Tang Mi glared at his profile, the sharp lines of his face in the sunset looking as beautiful as a drawn sword—exquisite and thin, evoking an impulse to destroy, but without the courage to strike.

From start to finish, this man was like a blade pressed against her neck, not needing any action—just his aura was enough to completely subdue her, and she had no choice but to silently comply.

“Tang, with your stubborn personality, one day you’re going to get yourself into big trouble,” Tang Mi suddenly remembered the words her foster father had told her years ago.

It seemed that his words had come true this time.

She gripped the armrest of her seat, gazing out over the vast, dimming grassland, her mind racing with calculations.

As night fell, Tang Mi was taken into a warm and spacious tent. It was located at the edge of the grassland, on the border between rural areas and towns in country Z, desolate and frequently visited by large wild animals.

As for why Arthur chose this remote, borderland location instead of a more comfortable town, Tang Mi suspected that his special identity might be the only reason. Despite the unstable situation, selling arms was not like selling vacuum cleaners in a supermarket, especially with his truck loaded with priceless contraband like ivory.

She silently observed her surroundings. The tent was not only equipped with all sorts of daily necessities but also had military-grade shortwave radios, portable solar power equipment, satellite phones, and satellite internet modems—advanced devices that made it resemble a small, mobile field command center. Along with the dozen or so muscular, armed bodyguards outside, it was as if she were in the midst of a well-equipped military operation.

Whether modern arms dealers ran such professional businesses, Tang Mi wasn’t sure, but she was increasingly certain that her chances of escape were dwindling.

Just as she sighed silently, Arthur pushed a plate toward her. “Eat, I guess you’re hungry.”

Tang Mi stared at the food in front of her. It included beef, chicken, vegetables, and a local dish called injera, a type of flatbread. Such a meal would be considered a luxury feast in a country where people died of hunger every day. It seemed they weren’t planning to make her suffer in terms of food. That made sense—only when prisoners were well-fed could they endure the harsh interrogation that would follow.

For some reason, she suddenly remembered a spy movie she had once watched.

Seeing her hesitation, Arthur smiled, leaning back in his chair and saying, “Don’t worry, I’m just a businessman. All I want is safety and money. Poisoning is not my style.” In fact, his eyes looked very friendly when he smiled, with thick eyelashes forming a long curve, elegantly surrounding his deep green eyes, which reflected a pure light, like a condensed piece of sky—beautiful and profound.

However, his sharply defined nose and the angular peaks of his lips ruined this softness, making him seem cold and aggressive.

Tang Mi lowered her eyelashes, as if to reject the gentle light in his eyes from afar. Then she carefully picked up a leaf of vegetable and put it in her mouth. “Safety?” she thought while chewing the food. The two words sounded especially ironic coming from him—people like him were the greatest threat to safety in and of themselves.

The injera was chewy, paired with a mildly spicy vegetable sauce that was quite appetizing. Tang Mi realized she was truly hungry. She ate everything on the plate, carefully avoiding all the meat.

When she put down her fork and took small sips of water, Arthur finally put down his laptop and walked over to her.

“Not to your taste?” He raised an eyebrow, noticing that she hadn’t touched any meat.

“No, it tastes great, but I only eat vegetarian food, thank you.” She picked up a napkin and wiped the corner of her mouth before looking up at him.

Arthur nodded, sitting down across from her. He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his strong arms, and slowly began inspecting her face.

The air inside the tent felt a bit stifling, and the sound of insects “humming” against the ceiling light created an uneasy atmosphere. Outside, in the deepening night, a low growl from a wild animal could be heard. This was a signal, and Tang Mi felt her internal warning system suddenly activate. Her fingers unconsciously curled into a fist. It seemed that tonight’s “theme” interrogation was about to begin.

Time seemed to slow, like stagnant water, seeping into her bones with coldness. She began praying for dawn to arrive, though night had just fallen.