Chapter 257: Chapter 257: How Do You Want to Cooperate?
The news about the N3H5 virus on the forum has significantly decreased, but the latest report is from S Country.
A small area in Marinia has been infected, and it’s not N3H5, but a mutated virus.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes flickered as she finished reading this piece of news. After closing the interface, a private message suddenly popped up.
Display name: Emperor.
Emperor: I heard from My King that you have an outstanding ability in decoding virus structures. Are you interested in collaborating with me?
After reading the content, Ann Vaughn was a bit surprised and replied tentatively, "How do you want to collaborate?"
Then Emperor sent a data attachment and a few pictures.
Ann Vaughn opened the attachment and looked at it for a while, finding it increasingly strange as she continued.
The virus data Emperor sent her was very similar to the OX virus she had just researched, but not exactly the same.
Instead, it resembled the symptoms induced by the virus infecting the small area in Marinia.
However, without a virus sample, Ann Vaughn couldn’t completely confirm that the two were identical.
After sending these materials, Emperor hadn’t replied since, which Ann Vaughn found strange but chose not to question.
...
M Country, Capital Center.
Presidential suite on the top floor of the International Hotel.
The light and shadows outside the floor-to-ceiling windows created a stark contrast between the bustling, noisy world and the cold, desolate atmosphere inside.
"Look at the object in front of you, don’t blink, follow its slow movement. Yes, just like that. When I start counting one, two, three, you will fall into a deep sleep..."
The deep, fluent language of M Country came from the side of the semicircular sofa in the bedroom.
A brown-haired, blue-eyed man in a white shirt and black trousers stood in front of the sofa, gently shaking a vintage pocket watch in his hand, staring intently at Cyrus Hawthorne, whose eyes were closed.
The next second, Cyrus Hawthorne opened his beautiful, deep eyes, looking clearly at the brown-haired man.
"Oh! Cian, this is the fifth time hypnosis has failed today!" The brown-haired man put away the pocket watch, frowning as he sat across from him, "Something is very wrong with you."
As the top psychologist in M Country, Cyrus Hawthorne was the most perplexing and difficult patient August had ever encountered.
Hypnosis was ineffective on him, psychological counseling had no effect, and even neural stimulation showed no results.
He’s like an impenetrable fortress.
Such patients are the most headache-inducing for psychologists.
"What do you mean?" Cyrus Hawthorne raised his hand to press his brows, his voice low and hoarse.
August assumed a posture for a heart-to-heart talk, "From what you’ve described, you can only let go of your inner shackles and fall asleep around a specific person, but things are always two-sided."
"First, this person might be the source of your mental knot and your illness. She can heal you or destroy you. Second, you’ve developed an excessive sense of possession over her. If she leaves..."
As soon as the last two words were spoken, August saw Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes squint, revealing a trace of cold ferocity.
August chuckled, "See, I’m just making assumptions."
"No ifs." Cyrus Hawthorne looked at him coldly.
It was rare to see him like this, and August couldn’t help but feel curious, "Usually, it’s me calling you dozens of times, annoying you to no end until you finally agree to come for treatment. How come this time, you came over without waiting for the appointed time?"
It was August’s intuition; he wasn’t just here to streamline a branch company.
Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s sharp brows furrowed deeply, casting a faint look of confusion across his unparalleled handsome face, as if dense ink could not be dispelled from his eyes.
August patiently waited for him to answer, quietly and without urging.
After a long while, the clouds covering the moon outside the window were blown away by the breeze, casting a gentle glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"She only likes my body but hates who I am," Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips tightened slightly, showing a hint of frustration in his brow.
August began to cough violently before even finishing listening.
"Cough cough, sorry, I just choked a little," August made an apologetic gesture, a bit mischievous on his face.
If not for the seriousness of Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression, August might have thought he was deliberately showing off.
"Cian, have you ever considered that the girl is saying one thing but means another?" August watched Cyrus Hawthorne’s contemplative expression, "When your body is greatly attractive to her, it indicates she’s interested in you as a person."
"If she vehemently denies it, it represents avoidance, a retreating mentality. The stronger this reaction, the more it indicates she has experienced relatively severe psychological trauma from you."
"Of course, it doesn’t rule out the second point, judging by her rejection of your approach but not repelling engaging in more intimate acts with you. Maybe she wants something from it..."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression immediately darkened, his thin lips pressing into a line, exuding a cold chill all over.
August stopped his psychological speculation and chuckled awkwardly, "After all, I’ve never met her, so my guesses might not be accurate."
He only happened to glimpse the photo on the pendant Cyrus toyed with occasionally.
Oh, God, if not for the fear of being smashed into the wall by Cyrus, he would have wanted to deeply acquaint himself with that beauty.
Cyrus Hawthorne ignored him, letting his eyelids droop, worn out.
Although August was notoriously a philanderer in the circle, his professional authority was undeniable.
Furthermore... even he had guessed that Ann Vaughn’s desire for his body had ulterior motives, and wasn’t just a simple desire to sleep with him.
"August, it seems you’ll have to accompany me to S Country this time." Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes lifted slightly, speaking meaningfully.
"More than that, if you have time, you’d better go to Merlot’s instead. If I’m not mistaken, your body is nearing its limit." August’s expression had turned serious.
Merlot is the current dean of Saint Roland Hospital.
"I have my plans." Cyrus Hawthorne nodded casually, "By the way, have you found Rowley?"
"... He has refused to show up, probably for fear of being held accountable for that surgery affair."
Cyrus Hawthorne glanced at August’s face with sharp, narrowed eyes, "You can continue to shield him, but when my patience runs out, you might as well pray I’ll be merciful."
"Rowley became famous young, highly skilled, but fell hard in his most proficient field. Back then, he probably panicked and came up with this escape plan." August fell silent for a few seconds, "I understand, please give me five more days."
Cyrus Hawthorne ignored his sentimentality and succinctly said, "Two days."
"Rest assured." August nodded, sighing inwardly. He might as well start praying for Rowley now.