Dragon Raja 5; Chapter 289: For Your Majesty (104)

Dragon Raja 5

Lu Mingfei was silent for a moment, then said, “Sonia and Vishniak must be having an affair, right?”

“It’s more than just having an affair, it’s practically like an old married couple,” Zero said. “But Vishniak has been flirting with your Christina the whole way.”

“It’s Miss Christina from the Federal Security Service,” Lu Mingfei quickly corrected.

Zero shrugged. “Don’t you feel like you’re in a time-traveled script? Old family, old friends, old city, old married couple.”

Lu Mingfei paused for a moment, then suddenly shivered. Zero turned around, put her hands in her coat pockets, and walked away on her own.

“Suicide out of fear of punishment?” Christina frowned in thought.

Lu Mingfei sighed inwardly. He returned to his room and told Christina about Vishniak’s death. However, the intelligence officer showed no regret for the young man who had pursued her so passionately, and her logical thinking seemed completely off.

“Sonia is very sad. Are she and Vishniak lovers?” Lu Mingfei asked.

“I’ve never heard of them. I’m not familiar with those people, and I’m meeting most of them for the first time.”

“Vishniak has been hanging around you the whole time, has he said anything to you?”

“Praise my beauty, praise it repeatedly.” Christina shrugged indifferently. “The same old routine.”

“Didn’t you ask any further questions? Weren’t you going to use your beauty to gather intelligence?”

“You question my professionalism?” Christina glared at her. “Of course I asked!” But then she thought for a moment, frowning again. “But he didn’t say anything.”

Lu Mingfei was too lazy to ask anymore; it would be pointless. With the intelligence of this young lady, the best career choice would be to become an actress in Moscow or London, but she insisted on venturing into dangerous territory with the mindset of an actress.

However, he had already completed a test. Zero said that the city had a feeling of time flowing backward, and everything had both new and old aspects, but Christina’s eyes did not show any vicissitudes or heaviness. She was just a child, at the age of a flower, unrestrained and flamboyant, like a lonely flower blooming in the snow.

Christina took out a medicine box from her purse again and quickly swallowed the pills. This time she was prepared and did not show any signs of illness.

Her ALS had clearly begun to worsen, and she was taking medication very frequently. She had kept this a secret until now that Lu Mingfei knew, so she stopped hiding it.

Christina wasn’t in a hurry to leave, and Lu Mingfei was too lazy to ask her to leave. The two ignored each other and went about their own business.

Christina ate the almond cookies from the jar, lost in thought, perhaps contemplating her strategy for tomorrow’s auction. Lu Mingfei fiddled with his “Finger” phone; he’d deliberately left it on the sofa while he was upstairs, so it would take pictures of Christina from head to toe without him even asking. He flipped through the photos, occasionally glancing up at the girl on the sofa, like looking at a female celebrity on a magazine cover when the celebrity herself was sitting on his sofa.

“Hello,” Lu Mingfei said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you have any ideals? Any things you must do in your life?”

Christina paused for a moment, then said, “Becoming an intelligence agent? I’ve already achieved that!”

It was like talking to a brick wall. Lu Mingfei was too lazy to pay attention to her again and continued flipping through the photos.

Bunin sat alone at his desk, the dark green velvet curtains completely blocking out the sunlight.

On the desk sat an old-fashioned telephone with a black bakelite casing, looking older than the city itself. For hours, Bunin’s gaze remained fixed on the phone, yet he never once tried to pick up the receiver.

He seemed to be hesitating whether to make the call, or perhaps waiting for the other party to call him back.

Vishnyak’s suicide note lay open before him, beginning with a handwritten poem.

We are just passing through everything, like a gust of wind.

Everything is silent to us, as if in tacit agreement.

Perhaps we are seen as half a disgrace and half an unspeakable hope.

Then came the few words left by Vishnak.

“Dear Alexander, I’m tired of all this. We live in purgatory, carrying our own tombstones, and the gates of heaven will never open for sinners like us. Thank you so much for what you’ve done for us all these years, though sometimes I really hate you. I apologize for what I said last night; I didn’t mean to offend your daughter, she’s a lovely girl. I’ll leave my chips to Sonia, but don’t tell her. She doesn’t have to carry my tombstone with her.”

Finally, a beautiful cursive signature. It seems that Vishniak did write this suicide note in a sober state. After the “bear claw” incident last night, he suddenly realized the meaning of life and death, and his attitude of parting from the world could even be described as carefree.

Bunin suddenly frowned, grabbed the pile of documents left by Vishnyak, and started flipping through them quickly. Just then, the phone rang.

Bunin suddenly looked up and stared intently at the telephone, as if the ringing thing was some dangerous beast.

He took a deep breath, composed himself, sat up straight, and picked up the microphone.

“We already know about Vishniak’s situation. It is very regrettable. His family has contributed to us. His funeral should be properly arranged and his remains should be properly handled.”

The male voice was calm, noble, and distant. It was impossible to discern any information about the speaker’s accent or age from his voice, but one could tell that he didn’t really regret the matter. “He bought himself a burial plot in Moscow and wants to be buried there.”

“Ashes”.

“clear.”

“The transaction must proceed as scheduled. This is your last time leading a transaction, and we thank you for your many years of service.”

Bunin remained silent for a long time, then said, “If it’s alright, I have a small request…”

He mustered his courage and made the request, his attitude as humble as a subject kneeling before a king begging for a small fiefdom for his retirement. If the other party were standing in front of him right now, he would have knelt down without hesitation. However, the other party refused without even thinking, “I’m sorry, we must maintain the fairness of the transaction. Even if you are the one facilitating it, you cannot break the rules.”

The phone call ended, and Bunin sat quietly in the darkness. He slammed the receiver down, rubbed his face hard with his short, rough hands, and reverted to his ruthless, cunning demeanor.

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