Chapter 5: Interrogation

---

“I’ve seen all the photos inside, and indeed, there are many elephants,” Arthur said, dropping the memory card while observing Tang Mi’s expression.

The dim light hit her face, her features resembling flickering lights, shifting and carrying an enigmatic beauty that was hard to fathom. But her eyes were cold, and they firmly reflected his figure.

‘She’s scared, but not backing down,’ Arthur thought as he stared at Tang Mi’s curled fingers, quickly making a judgment. He had interrogated many stubborn people who were hard to compromise with. If the methods of torture were ranked by severity, most people couldn’t even make it past level six, but how far could she go?

He stroked his chin and smiled faintly, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“I’ve told you before,” Tang Mi adjusted her sitting posture, about to speak, but was suddenly stopped when he pressed down on her shoulder.

“But the timing is wrong. The storage on this card is full, and the timestamp on the last photo shows it was taken an hour before we met.” Arthur stood up, walked behind Tang Mi, bent down, and pressed his finger onto her skin, slowly increasing the pressure, deliberate and unhurried, yet enough for her to feel it clearly.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, because I didn’t take any photos at all,” Tang Mi endured the pressure on her shoulder, along with his body heat, like a burning net wrapping around her from head to toe. Although she had a little space to move, there was no chance of escape.

“Do you want to know how I found you?” His body leaned slightly forward, his chin nearly touching her forehead. “It was the reflection from your lens. Don’t say you didn’t notice the memory card was full when you pressed the shutter in front of my face, dear photographer.”

“How could you see that?!” Tang Mi turned her head in disbelief, her eyes aligning with Arthur’s chin.

“Don’t be surprised, there are many things in the world you don’t understand. What did you plan to do with my photo? Sell it to a newspaper? Isn’t winning the Hasselblad Master Award enough? Are you also aiming for a Pulitzer Prize for Photography? Don’t forget how your parents died.” Noticing a slight tremor in her shoulders, Arthur grinned with satisfaction. “Do you want me to reveal the real cause of their deaths?”

“It wasn’t a shipwreck, but because they had captured the scene of the Mafia (Italian mafia) dealing with politicians, someone planted a bomb on the oil tanker, and then—boom—it was reduced to ashes, not even a single roll of film was left.”

“You,” her pupils instantly dilated, her trembling eyelashes almost touching his face, like a butterfly pierced by a steel needle. She flapped her wings violently, releasing a painful tremor.

“Don’t worry, they were shot dead before the explosion happened, so even though their bodies were blasted into pieces, and their blood and flesh splattered on the walls, they didn’t feel any pain. Instead, you, the one left behind, woke up countless times from dreams, crying and longing for your parents, only to face the empty walls of an orphanage, and of course, the reproach of the caretakers. Did they ever hurt you?

That orphanage director, such a terrifying demon, you must have been so afraid back then, right?”

Arthur’s voice continued, deep and filled with an affectionate intimacy, as if he were using a gentle knife, slowly but surely pushing it into Tang Mi’s heart, then extracting the deepest grain of sand, throwing it before her eyes along with the blood.

That memory had been long buried, so long that she had almost forgotten. Many details were lost, but the length and pain of forgetting remained sharply vivid.

“Enough!” Tang Mi suddenly raised her arm, swinging toward Arthur’s cheek. Pain was the most reliable memory of the body and would lead to the most direct reaction.

Her wrist was seized, then gently twisted, as though no force was used, and Tang Mi found herself pressed against Arthur’s chest, helplessly watching as his hand brushed across her face, tender and affectionate, as if trying to wipe away a tear that had slipped from her eye, even though there was nothing there.

“The ones left behind are the most tortured. Think about your beloved foster father. What would he do if he lost you? Would he want to bear all the suffering you endured?

No, we shouldn’t be so selfish. It’s just a small memory card. Come, slowly now, let’s carefully think about where it might have been hidden?” He coaxed patiently, his fingers sliding from her cheek to her neck, feeling the rapid pulsing of her artery beneath her delicate skin, like a tiny heart trembling at his fingertips.

Her heartbeat was fast. It seemed her mental defenses were about to collapse. Observing Tang Mi’s increasingly pale face, Arthur calmly analyzed the situation, feeling a bit regretful. She was a very attractive woman, and he didn’t deny that. He was always honest with his own feelings. If it weren’t for the mission, if she weren’t such a small “accident” in this operation, he thought he might have gone on a date with her, watching her beautiful skin grow warmer and sweeter beneath him, hearing enticing sounds from her seductive lips, and seeing her eyes blaze with passionate fireworks for him.

But now, she was an unknown danger, like a fluttering butterfly—who would have thought that her wings, thinner than paper, could bring a storm from thousands of miles away?

Damn it, where did she hide that card? He had searched her body in the car and found nothing, but Arthur was absolutely sure she had captured all the images of the transaction.

With this thought, his arm instinctively tightened around her body, as if her slender waist were a fragile flower stem, ready to snap at the slightest bend.

A small sound suddenly echoed, and Tang Mi’s head dropped weakly to the side. In her pain, she saw a fly, scorched by the light, fall to the ground. Its wings were stiff, pointing towards the sky, swaying for a moment before being quickly blown away by the wind.

“What did you say?” Arthur didn’t catch Tang Mi’s words and loosened his arm slightly, bringing his ear closer to her lips.

“It’s going to rain,” Tang Mi’s voice floated out lightly, like a dreamy murmur.

“Rain?” He stared at her, a moment of blankness filling his mind.

“I said, it’s going to rain soon,” Tang Mi slowly opened her eyes. A blinding light shot out, and with the rhythm of her lips curling up, it was soothing yet dazzling, almost like a flickering flame that could burn him.

Her sudden allure stunned Arthur, and an electric shock ran through his chest, causing waves of numbness. But he quickly realized—she was fighting back, right at the moment when he thought victory was his.

She was clever. In such a short time, she had seen through his interrogation techniques and effectively interrupted his “steps.” The psychological control method he was using was developed by the CIA, designed to quickly trap a suspect in a pre-set mental trap. In the trap, the suspect would be systematically “caught,” and the interrogator would then point out a “path” for the suspect. When the suspect thought they had “escaped,” the secret buried deep inside would be revealed.

But on the flip side, if you could break the steps that made up the trap, the interrogator’s mindset would also fail, even with a seemingly absurd word.

“An eye for an eye,” Arthur remembered a saying from an ancient Eastern text.

“Oh, how did you know it was going to rain?” Arthur released his grip and looked at her intently, as if this was the first time they had truly locked eyes.

“They told me,” Tang Mi blinked her eyelashes, her face innocent and straightforward, as if she were a well-behaved schoolgirl answering a teacher’s question.

“Who are ‘they’?” Arthur took a few steps to the side.

“The lions, the ones outside the tent,” she turned to look at the tent’s entrance.

He smiled, as if pleased by her words, laughing as he turned and swiftly pulled back the curtain. When he turned back, his face was devoid of any amusement: “Very well, then go and keep them company. And while you’re at it, ask them if they’ve had enough to eat tonight?”

Outside the curtain, the pitch-black sky was stirring. A bolt of lightning split the rolling clouds, striking the earth, and a growling roar of hunger echoed from the depths of the night, each one louder than the last, sounding almost like thunder.

A storm was coming.