After Mo Qi left, Vincent knocked on the small door of the compartment after confirming that there were no idle people outside, whispering, “It’s safe now.”

Inside the compartment, Wu Yahui comfortingly patted Liang Qiuchi’s arm.

After a while, the hand holding the gun slowly relaxed.

Wu Yahui looked at Liang Qiuchi’s dim eyes and whispered, “If you’re willing, tonight my brothers in the city can blow up that old man Reinis. Of course, there’s also that little bastard Godwin.”

Liang Qiuchi shook his head.

In the past eight years, he had many opportunities to make Reinis disappear from this world completely.

But he didn’t.

He wanted Reinis to drink the dirty water thrown at the Liang family before he died and return his father’s innocence.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kill him?” Wu Yahui whispered, “I heard that old man is going to participate in the next presidential election. Qiuchi, if he really wins, it won’t be so easy for you to act again.”

“I know,” Liang Qiuchi put away the gun. “Give me some more time. Before the election, things will come to a conclusion.”

“Don’t blame me for being verbose. The evidence you’ve collected over the years, don’t give it out casually,” Wu Yahui reminded, “The Federation is rotten to the core, the upper echelons are all in cahoots, and no one is trustworthy. Don’t repeat the same mistakes as last time and get yourself implicated.”

“Okay,” Liang Qiuchi nodded, reaching out to hug Wu Yahui, “Take care of yourself. I’m leaving.”

“Really leaving?” Wu Yahui held onto him and didn’t want to let go.

“Yeah, I have to make it clear to him,” Liang Qiuchi touched her long hair, “I’ll be back soon. Transfer to B contact point and wait for me there. It’s not safe here.”

“Okay, you take care too.” Wu Yahui poked Liang Qiuchi’s chest where the tattoo was with force, smiling, “He’s not someone you can easily fool with a few words.”

Liang Qiuchi smiled, pushed open the compartment door, put on the hat from the sofa, and said to Vincent, “I’m going with you.”

Vincent glanced back at Wu Yahui.

Wu Yahui leaned against the wall, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, but the lighter in her hand couldn’t ignite.

Vincent withdrew his gaze and quickly followed Liang Qiuchi downstairs to the car.

The sky was already slightly brightening, and the curfew was almost over. Their journey back to the villa was very smooth, without encountering any checks.

Back at the villa, Vincent finally asked the questions he had been holding back all the way, “What are you going to do?”

Liang Qiuchi stood on the stairs, his back straight but his figure exuding an indescribable exhaustion.

“You think of a reason to call him back,” Liang Qiuchi paused, adding, “Don’t tell him about my recovery and eyesight for now. I’ll talk to him personally.”

Vincent hesitated, “I’m afraid General Mo’s brother Mo Qi won’t be able to hide the truth about last night for long.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Liang Qiuchi tossed his phone to him, “You go make the call.”

Vincent caught the phone, thought for a moment, and said, “Mr. Liang, General Mo sincerely cares about you.”

Liang Qiuchi smiled, “I know.”

Vincent looked at him deeply and went outside to call Mo Xin as Liang Qiuchi requested. He didn’t mention Liang Qiuchi’s memory and vision recovery, but he did mention Mo Qi. He had a feeling that Mo Qi’s sudden appearance last night wasn’t a coincidence, and Mo Qi probably already knew about Liang Qiuchi’s existence.

So Vincent omitted the location of the red light district, only briefly reporting his speculation to Mo Xin.

Although Mo Xin had long suspected this—last time, he felt that Mo Qi’s attitude was very suspicious, but now, hearing it from Vincent, he still couldn’t rest assured.

And negotiations were stuck with no progress on conditions. Neither side could agree, nor could they fight. So Mo Xin just gave a nod to the negotiation team and hurried back to San Lorenzo overnight.

When he returned to the villa, it was already late at night.

The bedroom was pitch dark. Mo Xin turned on the light and saw Liang Qiuchi lying on the bed, facing away from the door, not sure if he was asleep.

He took off his coat and walked quietly to the bedside, lifting the covers and slipping in.

Liang Qiuchi reached out and hugged him tightly as soon as he approached.

Mo Xin chuckled softly, hooking his neck and biting his stubbled chin, gradually moving his teeth up until he captured Liang Qiuchi’s lips.

The two exchanged a very long kiss.

At the end, Mo Xin gently bit Liang Qiuchi’s lip and hoarsely said, “Don’t even ask who it is, just go along with it like this.”

As he spoke, his legs kept teasing and rubbing against Liang Qiuchi’s thighs.

Liang Qiuchi caught his restless legs and turned around to pin him down on the bed, not letting him move recklessly.

He buried his head in Mo Xin’s neck, took a deep breath, and sighed, “After holding you for so long, how could I not know it’s you.”

“Is that so,” Mo Xin hooked his neck, his eyes full of desire and infatuation, “During these days apart, did you miss me?”

Liang Qiuchi held him even tighter, muttering, “Very much.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Mo Xin opened his legs and wrapped them around Liang Qiuchi’s waist, “I missed you too.”

Liang Qiuchi suddenly kissed him fiercely, his arms holding Mo Xin as if to strangle him, completely unlike his usual gentleness.

Mo Xin felt strange, but this dominant and crazy Liang Qiuchi was like an active and mysterious volcano, erupting with sporadic sparks, easily burning away Mo Xin’s rationality.

And he lay next to the volcano, gradually sliding into the dangerous and scorching heat under Liang Qiuchi’s aggression.

He firmly believed that amid the boiling magma, his soul fragments burned to ashes could completely blend with Liang Qiuchi.

This was probably the closest moment between him and Liang Qiuchi.

Mo Xin greedily demanded, while Liang Qiuchi tirelessly gave, and the two seemed to reach an unprecedented understanding in their silent kisses and caresses.

It wasn’t until exhaustion, akin to the mating of wild beasts, that they stopped.

“Do you have cigarettes?” Liang Qiuchi sat naked at the head of the bed, his voice a little hoarse.

Mo Xin lay on the bed with his legs intertwined, his face still flushed, “Cigarettes after sex?”

Liang Qiuchi smiled “Hmm,” and inserted his fingers into Mo Xin’s short hair, gently rubbing.

Mo Xin turned over, reached out for the pants thrown on the floor, and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket, taking out two cigarettes.

As the flame flickered, Liang Qiuchi held the cigarette between his fingers and put it to his lips, leaning over to let Mo Xin light it.

Mo Xin felt a little dazed.

When he first saw Liang Qiuchi smoking, Liang Qiuchi was like this—lazy, tired, and a little decadent.

“Do you smoke?” Liang Qiuchi asked him back then, a small cluster of fire reflecting his reddened pupils.

Mo Xin shook his head, and then Liang Qiuchi handed him the cigarette, “Want to try it?”

Mo Xin held the damp cigarette butt in his mouth, took a deep breath, and instantly choked on the nicotine that filled his lungs.

Liang Qiuchi gently patted his back, “Take it slow.”

Mo Xin tried again, this time almost tearing up from being choked.

Liang Qiuchi took back the cigarette with a gentle smile, put it in his own mouth, and blew out a smoke ring, “Don’t force yourself.”

Mo Xin silently accompanied him through a cigarette, remembering something Liang Qiuchi had said to him before, “Don’t look for me again in the future.”

—This was the last thing Liang Qiuchi said to him eight years ago.

During these eight years, Mo Xin learned to smoke, and every time he smoked, that sentence was like a thorn, embedding itself deeper into his bones.

Now, watching Liang Qiuchi smoke, he couldn’t help but feel extremely anxious.

He was afraid that Liang Qiuchi would say to him in the next moment, “Don’t look for me again in the future.”

Clearly, they had just been through the most intimate moment, but this situation unsettled him, despite everything.

Previously, Mo Xin had always thought that this irreparable sense of detachment was caused by the eight years of separation from Liang Qiuchi. Even though he could now hold Liang Qiuchi day and night, the emptiness in his heart still gaped wide open.

Perhaps he still needed a lot of time to fill that void.

But intuition told him that he only had the time it took to smoke this cigarette, just like eight years ago.

Suddenly, he snatched the half-burned cigarette from Liang Qiuchi’s hand, put it in his mouth, and took a deep drag.

“Ge, let’s go,” he grabbed Liang Qiuchi’s wrist.