Rebirth 1990: The beginning is sweet and cool Bai Yueguang

That’s what he said at the time: “The last chance to choose.”

Lin Xindie dug her nails deep into her palms, thousands of thoughts of wanting to run towards Zhou Qi running rampant in her chest.

But his eyes caught sight of the silver lighter that Bai Qinghong was playing with, which had his sister's favorite daisy pattern printed on it - this gift had just been delivered to his sister's ward three days ago.

Just as she was about to take a step towards Bai Qinghong, he suddenly stood up, holding on to the armrest of the sandalwood chair.

Bai Qinghong adjusted the malachite inlays on his cufflinks, his voice like red wine soaked in ice: "Boss Zhou acted so sincerely that even I almost believed in this hero saving the damsel in distress."

Zhou Qi suddenly stepped forward and clamped Lin Xindie's jaw with his tobacco-smelling fingers: "Look at me!"

He rolled his thumb over the wound on her bitten lower lip: "Now I give you a choice - do you want to come with me?"

The lighter turning between Bai Qinghong's fingers suddenly stopped.

Lin Xindie looked at the anxiety in Zhou Qi's eyes and thought of the photo in the encrypted email he sent her last night. The number of bodyguards outside her sister's ward was half less than usual.

"I'll go with you." She heard her hoarse voice piercing the solidified air.

When Zhou Qi let go of his hand, Bai Qinghong was using a silk handkerchief to wipe the whiskey that had splashed onto his watch.

When the crisp sound of the metal box lock popping open was heard, he suddenly laughed at the crystal chandelier:

"Mr. Zhou, do you know what I admire most about you? It's your recklessness in overturning the table even though you know it's a dead end."

Gao Qingliang's pen left ink smudges on the document.

He watched Bai Qinghong take out a blue and white capsule from the enamel cigarette case, and his Adam's apple rolled violently with the crisp sound of the other party biting the capsule.

He had seen the same medicine box on the surveillance camera on the night the CFO disappeared three years ago.

Bai Qinghong leaned back in the leather sofa, tapping his temple with his fingertips: "Xiao Gao, where do you think a betrayer should start to atone for his sins?"

His shadow twisted into a giant python on the gilded wallpaper, spitting out its tongue at the stiff Gao Qingliang.

Gao Qingliang felt his knees shaking uncontrollably and a rapid swallowing sound came from his throat.

Bai Qinghong rubbed the red tip of his nose with his knuckles, and the metal cufflinks flashed a cold light under the light.

"I hate fence-sitters the most."

His voice was so soft that it seemed as if he was talking to himself, but it made the man in a suit opposite him straighten his back instantly.

"Bai... What do you mean, Mr. Bai?"

Gao Qingliang's knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrest, and the leather seat made a slight friction sound.

The cold sweat oozing from his forehead was sliding down his temples, leaving dark marks on the collar of his custom-made suit.

Bai Qinghong suddenly laughed out loud. Under the effect of the drug, his pupils dilated slightly and his whole body appeared in a state of morbid excitement.

With a crisp sound of metal collision, the bodyguard stuffed the Glock 17 into his palm.

The barrel of the gun made a harsh sound on the mahogany tabletop: "Come on, get closer."

When the cold muzzle of the gun was pressed against his temple, Gao Qingliang smelled the lingering smell of gunpowder.

He staggered and fell to his knees. The dull sound of his knees hitting the marble floor made everyone present hold their breath.

Bai Qinghong tilted his head to adjust the shooting angle, like an artist looking for the best composition.

"Tell me."

The barrel of the gun tapped the skull in rhythm with the conversation: "From which channel did the batch of Czech CZ75s leak out?"

The hairs on the back of Gao Qingliang's neck stood up instantly, and he saw that his face reflected in the other person's glasses looked deathly pale.

The memory flashed back to the dock warehouse three days ago, when Zhou Qi lifted the tarpaulin and saw the ammunition box exposed.

Could it be that the sinister financial officer has a backup plan?

"This is a frame-up!"

His Adam's apple rolled violently, and his voice sounded like it was rubbed out by sandpaper: "The Zhou guy has long wanted to replace me by your side, and I haven't even seen that batch of stuff..."

The last word was stuck in his throat—Bai Qinghong suddenly rolled over his trembling jaw with the butt of his gun.

Bai Qinghong flicked the hammer with his thumb, and the cold light of the Beretta 92F flashed across his trembling face: "Last chance."

"Mr. Bai, my wife and children live in a villa in the south of the city, and my parents in my hometown receive the pension you give them every month."

Gao Qingliang's Adam's apple rolled, his back pressed against the back of the sandalwood chair: "I wouldn't dare to do anything rash even if I had ten guts!"

The sound of the trigger spring tightening was particularly clear in the silence.

Dark water stains suddenly appeared on the crotch of his suit pants, and the pungent smell of ammonia mixed with the scent of agarwood swirled in the air-conditioning air.

"boom!"

Bai Qinghong suddenly simulated the sound of a gunshot with his mouth, and laughed out loud at the middle-aged man who was limp as mud.

He bent his index finger and tapped the other person's wet cheek, and the collision of his knuckles against flesh made a crisp "tapping" sound.

“Isn’t it easy for Dinghua to grow from three bungalows to a listed company?”

Bai Qinghong walked to the French window with his pistol spinning. Huang Liujiang's neon reflection was reflected on the gun. "You're having Zhou Qi sit in your office now. Are you worried?"

Gao Qingliang wiped the cold sweat from his eyes and said, "It's a blessing to be able to guard Master Bai's purse and work in the mail room."

"That piece of land on the North Shore is worth 3.7 billion."

Bai Qinghong suddenly turned around and pointed his gun at the financial director's brow: "Zhou Qi's signature stamp, I want you to personally monitor every remittance."

When two girls in haute cheongsams helped the man with weak legs away, Bai Qinghong unloaded the magazine and threw it to his assistant in the shadows.

The 9mm bullet rolled with a dull thud on the Persian carpet.

"Fourth Uncle often goes to Macau recently?"

He loosened his tie and sneered, "I just mentioned the money bag, and this old man's pawn is eager to show his loyalty."

The assistant screwed the silencer onto the barrel of the gun: "Do we need to arrange a car accident for Mr. Zhou?"

"No hurries?"

Bai Qinghong adjusted his cufflinks facing the glass curtain wall and said, "Ask the Finance Department to send the overseas account statements to Fourth Uncle's study. Since he likes to play with remote controls, let's build a stage for him."

The sound of the Bund's bell penetrated the double-glazed windows, mixed with the sound of river boat whistles and echoed in the 880-square-meter top-floor duplex.

Bai Qinghong stroked the gilded lighter, and the flame made his pupils flicker.

In the twilight, the sound of tires rolling over bluestone slabs was particularly clear. Zhou Qi held the steering wheel and turned the corner. The gilded sign of Qingnan Pavilion in the rearview mirror gradually shrank into a dot of light.

Lin Xindie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly clenched her seat belt, her nails scratching the leather. "You shouldn't have snatched someone from Bai Qinghong in public!"

The car speed suddenly dropped by three points. Zhou Qi placed his left hand on the window sill, tapping the metal frame rhythmically with his knuckles:

"Remember the bartender Ajie who disappeared last month? Do you want me to check the surveillance footage in Bai Qinghong's interrogation room for you?"

"so what!"

Lin Xindie turned around abruptly, her hair brushing across the dashboard: "I said I'm not worth your risk!"

She suddenly lowered her voice and said, "Bai Qinghong has twelve torture chambers in the south of the city. Which one do you think he likes to use the most to entertain traitors?"

The blue light of the dashboard reflected Zhou Qi's well-defined profile. He suddenly chuckled: "Do you think Bai Qinghong really cares about what you said?"

Slide your finger across the central control screen to call up an encrypted file:

"Look at this. Gao Qingliang lost 40 million in Macau last week. The casino surveillance showed that Bai Qinghong's personal accountant was in the next box."