On the car back to the city, Anya huddled next to Fu Haoran, holding his arm with both hands and never letting go of it all the way.
The street lights outside the car window moved back one by one, and she stared at the face reflected in the glass.
Today, she saw with her own eyes that the modified pickup truck was smashed into pieces by the Iron Giant, and she saw car parts flying into the sky and falling down like a heavy rain.
I heard with my own ears the crisp sound of broken bones and desperate screams, as well as gunshots and shouts of death.
When I got home, Anya took off her saree, stood in the shower room and took a long shower of hot water.
When the water rushed down from her collarbone, she looked down and saw a shallow indentation on her chest. This was made by his tactical vest when he protected her tightly in the factory today.
She turned the water a few degrees cooler, trying to calm down her hot cheeks, then wrapped herself in a bathrobe and turned on her phone.
After flipping through the pages for a long time, I noticed an inconspicuous piece of news: <New Delhi An unknown explosion occurred in an abandoned factory in the northern suburbs. It was suspected to be a gang fight. The police said there were no casualties>.
She had just picked up the glass of water when the second article popped up. The title was "The police sent extra patrols last night, the northern suburbs have returned to safety, and citizens don't need to panic."
Article 3, <Environmental organizations condemn illegal dumping, but the police deny the existence of violence in the area>.
No casualties.
Anya turned off her phone and the moment the screen went black, she saw her face reflected on the glass, her lips turned white.
Today she saw with her own eyes an iron giant under Fu Haoran, lifting a pickup truck over his head and smashing it into a crowd of people.
I also heard the screams of many people.
Now the news tells her that there are no casualties.
"Is the government covering up the truth?"
Anya The more she thought about it, the more it seemed possible. She leaned on the sofa and wrapped her bathrobe tighter.
"Dawood may be dead, but he must still have many subordinates, and those people must know where I am!"
"It's definitely not safe to stay at home." Anya The more I think about it, the more I feel like this.
The news said "no casualties", but what about those people who climbed over the wall from the back door of the factory and ran away?
Will they take revenge on themselves?
Anya Suddenly, I felt that this familiar manor had become extremely strange.
The huge house was eerily quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
The wind blew through the mango trees in the yard, making a rustling sound, but to her ears it sounded like someone was walking.
She huddled on the sofa, wrapped her bathrobe tighter, and stared at the bedroom door.
I always feel that the next second, a black figure with a machete will rush out from behind the door.
Finally, Anya made a decision. She took off her bathrobe, opened the closet, and dug out her most formal set of haute couture sari. It was sapphire blue silk decorated with fine diamonds, and the neckline was opened just right, highlighting the beautiful lines of her collarbone and shoulders.
She pursed her lips in front of the mirror, combed her hair twice with her hands, picked up her handbag, and opened the bedroom door.
"Dad, I'm going out for a while."
"It's so late, where are you going?"
"----Looking for friends."
Vikram was busy making phone calls and didn't think much about it. In the end, he just said, "I'll ask the driver to take you off."
In the car, Anya rehearsed the same sentence over and over in his mind, "I'm just here to make sure you're okay." He told himself that he was just going to thank someone who saved him in the factory, that's all.
As soon as she stepped into the hotel lobby, she almost stepped on the hem of her sari.
The hall is full of military police. They are not ordinary hotel security guards, but staff officers with general stars on their shoulders and matching uniforms on their waists.
Sikh soldiers with automatic weapons.
Although outsiders are prohibited from entering here, Anya was not blocked due to his high caste status as a Brahmin.
"Did some big shot come?" Anya didn't think much and took the elevator to the presidential suite on the top floor.
However, as soon as the door opened, two bearded Sikh officers simultaneously stretched out their hands to block her way.
"Ma'am, this place is not open to the public."
"I'm here to see a friend. My friend lives here."
The two Sikh officers looked at each other. There was only one resident on this floor. If what the other party said was true, there was only one possibility.
They said politely, "Madam, please wait a moment, we are talking about something very important."
Anya did not argue, walked to the rest area at the end of the corridor, sat aside and waited quietly.
This wait is one hour.
The door finally opened.
First, a few potbellied officials came out. Anya didn't recognize them.
When the old man with white hair came out, Anya's eyes widened.
Because this is their India Prime Minister Modi!
With a smile on his face, the other party turned around and reached out to the door. "Mr. Fu, thank you for helping India get rid of this cancer Dawood."
"We will handle all the follow-up cleaning work and won't cause you any trouble."
"As for the corpses you need as experimental materials, I have informed the following and asked them to negotiate cooperation with you.
"In addition, regarding the purchase contract and payment method of fighter aircraft, we will discuss a new plan as soon as possible."
Fu Haoran shook his hand and said nothing.
Then Anya saw the officials following Modi shaking hands with Fu Haoran one by one and saying goodbye.
Anya has a vague impression of them. They seem to be the Minister of Defense, Ministry of Internal Affairs Commander-in-Chief of the Army?!
Anya's first thought was that this was ridiculous, but with the Prime Minister already here, a few more big shots seemed reasonable.
Anya stood at one end of the corridor, watching the elevator door slowly closing, and then walked to the door.
The door is unlocked.
Fu Haoran was sitting on the sofa, with several documents spread out in front of him and a cup of cold coffee in his hand.
He looked up at her and said in a calm tone, "Is something wrong?"
"Those people just now--were they Prime Minister Modi?" Anya asked stammering, "What did you--talk about?"
"Nothing, they want to purchase a batch of aircraft from me, but the payment method has not been agreed upon."
Anya heard this and his mind went blank.
To be able to discuss business with the Prime Minister, how much energy does this mean?!
The rich second generation she had met at London who boasted about their family titles and estates suddenly seemed dim.
Anya calmed down and asked in a low voice, "Dawood's matter——you did it, right?"
Fu Haoran raised his eyes to look at her and nodded calmly. "Yes, I generally don't like to meddle in other people's business, but if I do, I have to do it to the end."
Anya's heartbeat suddenly stopped for half a beat. She turned around and walked to the bar, poured herself a glass of whiskey, and drank it down in one gulp.
The spicy liquid slid down his throat, suppressing the tension surging in his heart.
Anya sat down again. "The news," she said, "I saw the news that there were no casualties."
"Dawood is dead?"
"Dead."
"Are we safe now?" Anya's voice was very low, "Dawood's men know my home address and know that my father is cooperating with you. They know that I----"
"They won't come." Fu Haoran interrupted her, "Dawood is dead, and someone will take over his territory tonight."
"The person who takes over will be very busy, busy re-dividing interests, busy cleaning up Dawood's direct lineage, and busy re-paying protection fees to the state government and the police station."
"No one has the energy to trouble your family."
Anya was stunned for a moment.
Obviously a girl under 20 years old doesn't know much about these things.
There is no loyalty, only interests.
Anya was stunned for a long time before speaking, "I'm sorry for what I said to you before, those arrogant words. I felt that you were a nouveau riche and that you were not worthy of my father cooperating with you----"
"It's okay. Your family is not my only choice. I just miss my old relationship and like to give my partners a chance."
Fu Haoran said it so straightforwardly that Anya realized that his family did not seem to be the best choice.
Anya felt a sense of crisis in his heart.
She thought of her disdain for the local people of India and her contempt for her father's old-school business circle when she was studying at London.
Thinking of the estrangement of the clan relationship.
She changed her position, and the hem of her sari accidentally rubbed against Fu Haoran's leg.
She retracted her feet, but her body unconsciously moved closer.
From the moment Anya leaned on Fu Haoran's arms to talk about his experience, the distance between the two was no longer a social distance.
"You were in the factory today," she raised her head, her eyes burning with alcohol and other things, "To protect me, right?"
Fu Haoran did not answer.
Anya put down the wine glass, leaned forward, and kissed his lips. Fu Haoran paused slightly and did not push her away.
The shoulder strap of her sari had slipped partially, and there were still red marks on her collarbone from the broken glass in the factory during the day.
Fu Haoran's hands clasped her waist, and his fingertips touched the tight waistline that had been acquired through three years of Latin dance practice.
Her skin was slightly hot under the influence of alcohol, and the thin sari could barely block the heat.
His fingers slowly walked up her spine, and the curvature of each vertebra was clearly discernible. She let out a very light trembling breath between his lips, as if someone had finally opened a lock that had been closed.
New Delhi The late night light shone in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the diamonds on her sari and the large area of collarbone and shoulders exposed after her shoulder straps slipped down.
She stepped back half an inch, looked into his eyes, and then reached out and unhooked the back of the sari.
The sound of fabric sliding down was particularly clear in the quiet room.
Anya was sitting on her knees on the sofa, wearing only a very thin lace vest on her upper body. The thin lace vest outlined her young and beautiful body curves. There was only a pair of matching low-waisted lace panties below her waist. The vest line that had been practiced for three years in Latin dance undulated under the light.
She didn't cover it up, she just accepted his gaze quietly, her heart beating so fast that the lace fabric trembled slightly.
Anya has never had a boyfriend before, and he is so raw that even his breathing is out of rhythm.
His body temperature spread through the thin shirt, making Anya's fingertips numb.
His movements were steady and powerful, with an irresistible sense of control, as if no matter how hard she struggled, she could not escape his grasp.
There was a moment when Anya's cheek was pressed against the cold leather sofa. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the document left by Modi on the TV cabinet, with the national emblem of India neatly printed on it.
An hour ago, the most powerful man in the country was standing in this room, chatting and laughing with the man in front of him.
And now, she is lying on the same sofa with this man.
The image of him picking up the thug with one hand flashed before her eyes in the factory, and her scream was completely broken in her throat.
It didn't take long for him to collapse, and he didn't even have the strength to raise his hands.
She buried her face into Fu Haoran's sweaty neck and murmured in a hoarse voice, "Are you a human being?"
, Fu Haoran didn't answer, he just pulled her into his arms.
She fell asleep before she heard the answer.
Early the next morning, Anya sat up wrapped in a sheet. The thin quilt slipped from his shoulders, revealing the light red indentation on his collarbone that had not faded, which was left when the two had a fierce fight last night.
Anya didn't rush to find clothes, he just walked out barefoot wrapped in sheets.
Found a man on the sofa reading a tablet.
Anya suddenly felt that the boys he had met at London were not attractive at all.
"You're awake." Fu Haoran didn't look up.
"Hmm." Anya stood up wrapped in sheets, stepped on the carpet with bare feet, walked behind him, bent down, put her chin on his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.
The bed sheets slid down a few more inches the moment she bent over, but she didn't bother to pull them up.
Anya closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Fu Haoran's neck.
"What do you want to eat for breakfast?" Fu Haoran put down the tablet.
"Don't move." Anya tightened his arms, "Let me hold you for a while longer."
Anya's fingers unconsciously made famous circles on his chest, and he could feel the outline of his chest muscles through his shirt.
She remembered the way this layer of fabric was soaked with sweat and stuck to the other person's body last night, and her ears began to feel hot again.
She has been at London for three years and has never taken the initiative to hug someone of the opposite sex, but now she feels that this posture is more natural than any words. C
"Mr. Fu." She rubbed his ear, her voice hoarse as if she had just woken up, "Can I stay here for the next few days? I think----I want to intern next to you."
Anya found an excuse that he didn't even believe.
Fu Haoran turned around and glanced at Anya.
The other person was wrapped in bedsheets, his hair was messy, there was still makeup residue hanging from the corners of his eyes that had not been wiped off, and his lips were a little swollen from too much kissing last night.
But the look in her eyes was as bright as when she was drinking last night, and she didn't flinch.
"Okay, let me teach you the first lesson first, be a secretary if you have something to do, and be a secretary if you have nothing to do."
After Fu Haoran finished speaking, he brought the other person over and started the morning exercise.
This exchange lasted until noon.
It's not that Fu Haoran is tired, but that a guest is here.
Fu Haoran asked Anya to stay and help him handle some simple tasks, pour coffee for guests, organize documents, and record the key points of the meeting.
In the evening, the two began to review the game and have in-depth and simple exchanges.
So for the next three days, Anya sat in the corner of the suite, holding a coffee cup, watching one after another big names who could only be seen on TV news bending down in front of Fu Haoran.
As soon as the deputy secretary of the Ministry of National Defense left, the secretary of the Ministry of Energy came in. Before the Ministry of Energy had finished talking, the chief minister of Uttar Pradesh had been waiting at the elevator entrance for almost twenty minutes.
Everyone is here for the same thing.
Big business cannot be done. After all, no matter how cheap a fighter plane is, it is still a fifth-generation fighter. But in small business, anyone can make a decision.
Many people have already inquired that Fu Haoran is collecting corpses, and one corpse costs up to 600 US dollars!
This is the purchase price of United States!
Ten thousand "talents" is $6 million!
Even if there is only half the profit, it is still a windfall!
India lacks everything except people!
When is the day when people don't die in the slums?!
For their own small treasury, people from all walks of life showed up one after another.
It doesn't matter if the price is lower, as long as the purchase volume is large enough.
Fu Haoran doesn't object either. If someone is willing to take the initiative to bargain, what reason do you have to refuse?
As a result, the prices negotiated became lower and lower, and the conditions became looser and looser.
Some people have proposed that the state government provide free cold storage and transportation fleets, some are willing to set aside a dedicated dock near Ganges for cargo loading, and some have suggested that legislation can be revised to modify the execution method of the death penalty to ensure the freshness of "talents."
At noon, the mayor of Mumbai came.
Anya I remember seeing him on TV last week, wearing a crisp suit and giving an impassioned speech to the camera, saying that he would crack down on gang crimes and give citizens a safe home.
Now, he was chatting and laughing with Fu Haoran, with a bright smile on his face, "Mr. Fu, I have filled Mumbai's three large cold storages, you can inspect the goods at any time."
"Don't worry, there is a death certificate and it has been signed by the family, so you don't have to worry."
"I hope these corpses can help you in your great cause."
Fu Haoran's explanation to the outside world is that the corpse was purchased as a material for brain-computer experiments. Regardless of whether outsiders believe it or not, all procedures are legal.
Anya has become accustomed to this. In the past few days, she has watched those big shots who are usually superior, fighting over an order that they think is insignificant, and even going so far as to undermine each other.
During these days, Fu Haoran handles business during the day, and talks frankly with Anya at night, removing any baggage and having frank communication.
As a mature man with experience, Fu Haoran taught Anya all the love skills he learned in short movies.
It was not until the evening of the fourth day that the last batch of cold chain containers departed from the suburbs of New Delhi, and Fu Haoran decided it was time to go back.
There is no way, India has provided too many "talents"! There is simply no room for them in the warehouse.
Warhammer World.
Five days have passed since the last transaction with Fu Haoran was completed.
Rogue Trader Reck·Vance was a little unhappy.
"What's going on? Why didn't I hear about Lower Hive buying up corpses in large quantities?"
"Did that Lower Hive Governor stop?"
"This won't work. If he doesn't go crazy and seek death, how can I advance my plan!"
"It seems I need to pay another visit."
Just when Reck was thinking about when to pay a visit, the butler came to report, "Lord Baron, the Governor invited you to come over. He said that the new goods are ready."
"Oh? It seems that I am worried in vain." Reck·Vance smiled, "It seems that our governor is not stupid, and he also knows that he needs to hide his eyes from others when doing such things."
"Okay, let's go meet. I hope it won't be too little, otherwise it will be boring.
",