A little earlier than early evening.

Mo Yuan, who had fallen asleep, woke up slowly.

He opened his eyes.

The ceiling was miserable white.

He wanted to look around.

He turned his head to the left, and the ceiling swung to the right.

He turned his head to the right, and the ceiling rotated to the left.

"That's what it's like to be dizzy", he was a little nauseous, his stomach seemed to be twisted together, "I need to get up", he muttered to himself.

-

It was a dreary summer evening.

The hot and humid breath of the day, constantly steaming, at this moment, began to be heavy.

The top officer of the Department of Homeland Security's Strategic Hazard Intervention and Espionage Logistics Division stepped out of his car, black leather shoes, heavy and shiny black.

"Please come with me. "The staff of the medical institution is guiding at the front

This man, the director in the eyes of others, the "old man" in Mo Yuanxiaolan's mouth, followed behind unhurriedly.

His guard, a lean and capable man, walked beside him.

It was a little cold, Mo Yuan felt, he moved his fingers, numb, but still a little touch, he remembered - in the A International Hotel, the luxury restaurant on the 137th floor - there, the strange bullet in him, the slow-release poison made him gradually lose almost all of his senses. When his life was about to run out, he miraculously regained his senses little by little, as the nun-like woman said, "born with antibodies to deal with this poison."

"his coincidence", Mo Yuan's heart was full of disdain, "If there is really a so-called arrangement of fate, then the master of fate, God, is too boring." ”

With that in mind, his fingers touched the control panel on the side of the bed, and with a touch of a swipe, he adjusted the temperature in the room.

Orange-red sunlight filtered through the southwest-facing windows, along the floor, and climbed onto his quilt.

He felt a hint of warmth, maybe it was just a psychological effect.

He continued to maneuver the control panel with difficulty, the curtains of the windows closed to the sides, so that the afterglow of the setting sun could fill the room.

He couldn't see the sunset at this moment, but there was the shattered sunset that was gradually fading in his eyes—the sunset of that strange city.

The door opened.

The paramedics walked in.

"The patient is in stable condition, but it is still necessary to pay attention to the length of the conversation. ”

"Okay. The old man walked in slowly.

The paramedics reviewed the data from the monitoring equipment again, confirmed that there were no abnormalities, and left the room.

The old man glanced at the guard. The guard, then, went out, closed the door, stood, and went into a state of alert.

Mo Yuan operated the control panel on the side of the bed, and the upper part of the bed slowly rose, which allowed Mo Yuan to sit half-seated and face the old man.

The old man silently looked at Mo Yuan, whose expression was a little painful, and he didn't mean to stop it—the fake politeness did not exist between these two men.

"Your former right-hand man will never appear again in the present and future", Mo Yuan stared at the bed quilt dyed red by the setting sun, "and as a gift of the transaction, it was 'safely' sent back by the other party, it is really ...... I'm so sorry. ”

The old man looked at Mo Yuan, staring at his empty eyes—there was still some warm dimness in them.

"I just did what I had to do," the old man said calmly, "You should understand that politics is a transaction, and there is no limit to the object of the transaction, and as long as there is a transaction, there will inevitably be losses while the interests are exchanged." ”

"She, is it just a loss?" Mo Yuan's eyes were shocked, "Some scattered cannon fodder?"

"You, blue-eyed," the old man said softly, squinting, "did you do what you were supposed to do?"