"What are you looking for?"
John's voice was as deep as a frozen winter lake, carrying an almost imperceptible chill, yet it struck like a bolt of lightning, instantly cleaving the stagnant air in the warehouse. Phyllis spun around abruptly, her heart pounding, threatening to burst from her chest. The metal badge in her hand glinted eerily in the dim light, as if mocking her current disarray.
John stood not far away, backlit, his tall figure pressing down like a mountain. In his hand, he held the iris handkerchief she had slipped into his pocket, his fingertips gently caressing the embroidery on the fabric, a gesture as tender as if he were stroking a precious treasure, yet in stark contrast to his terrifyingly grim face. His gaze was sharp and scrutinizing, bottomless, yet seeming to hide a struggling undercurrent. How was he here?! Phyllis's heart instantly leaped to her throat. She knew she had truly been caught red-handed this time! All her secrets, all her investigations, were, at this moment, exposed before him. She could feel the tension in the air, as if it were about to explode.
"I... I'm looking for some old documents." Phyllis tried to keep her voice steady, but her hand gripping the badge tightened involuntarily, her nails almost digging into her palm. She attempted to hide the badge behind her back, but John's gaze was too sharp, already fixed on it.
John's eyes fell on her clenched fist, and his expression suddenly turned piercing, carrying an undeniable pressure. "Give me what's in your hand." His voice grew colder, each word like an ice shard shattering on Phyllis's heart.
Phyllis didn't move. She knew that once she handed it over, all her efforts would be in vain. She looked up, meeting John's eyes, trying to find a trace of familiar emotion in those deep pools, even anger would be better than this unfamiliar scrutiny. But she found nothing, only cold authority.
"What are you investigating?" John took a step forward, his tone laced with dangerous questioning. "The Yarfi Group's abandoned warehouse is not a place for a 'security consultant' like you." He deliberately emphasized the words "security consultant," with clear sarcasm.
Phyllis's heart sank. He knew what she was doing after all, perhaps even her purpose for being here. She took a deep breath, deciding to drop the pretense. Since she was discovered, it was time to lay her cards on the table!
"I'm investigating the truth of the train accident five years ago!" Phyllis's voice trembled slightly, but her eyes were incredibly firm. "I'm investigating why that accident happened, why you lost your memory in that accident, and why the Yarfi family was so eager to cover everything up!" She raised the badge in her hand, letting John see the faint pattern on it. "And this! It's identical to the watermark on that warning letter! Do you dare say you don't know what it represents?!"
John's pupils constricted sharply. When his gaze landed on the faint "Shadow" character on the badge, his body visibly stiffened. The iris handkerchief in his hand dropped to the ground with a soft sound, yet it echoed piercingly in the silent warehouse. His face instantly turned deathly pale, veins bulging on his forehead, and his body began to tremble violently, as if struck by an invisible force. He clutched his head in agony, letting out a suppressed groan, his voice filled with struggle and pain.
"My head hurts so much... No... don't..." John bent over in pain, dropping to one knee, his hands gripping his hair tightly, nails almost digging into his scalp. His breathing became rapid and heavy, cold sweat streaming down his forehead, his body shaking uncontrollably. Seeing him like this, Phyllis's heart twisted in pain. She knew she had touched the most vulnerable part of his deep memory; those suppressed pains were tearing him apart, bit by bit.
"John!" Phyllis disregarded everything else and immediately rushed forward, trying to support him. She saw the old scar on his wrist become even clearer in his trembling, that scar she had left when bandaging him five years ago.
John didn't reject her approach; instead, he instinctively grabbed her hand, with a force that almost crushed her bones. His eyes were confused and pained, yet held an indescribable longing, as if grasping a lifeline in the darkness. He stared intently at Phyllis, unconsciously mumbling fragmented words: "Fire... explosion... you... don't go..."
Those fragmented words, each one like a hammer, struck hard at Phyllis's heart. She knew he was experiencing the agony of memory recall; those suppressed images were relentlessly assaulting his mind. She held his hand tightly, trying to give him strength, trying to make him feel her presence.
Just then, Kevin's voice came from outside the warehouse, tinged with anxiety: "Mr. Zhuo? Are you in there?"
John's body stiffened abruptly. His confused and pained eyes, under extreme self-control, instantly regained their coldness and clarity, as if his earlier loss of composure had never happened. He released Phyllis's hand, abruptly standing up, his face deathly pale, but his eyes had reverted to their previous coldness and authority. He glanced at the badge on the ground, then at Phyllis, his gaze so complex that Phyllis couldn't decipher it.
"Kevin, come in!" John's voice was still deep, but carried an undeniable command.
Kevin rushed in quickly, seeing the disarray in the warehouse, John's pale face, and the badge in Phyllis's hand. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but he quickly concealed it perfectly.
"Take this and keep it safe." John pointed to the badge on the ground, his voice as cold as ice. "Furthermore, effective immediately, Phyllis's security level is to be elevated to the highest. Ensure her absolute safety at all costs. Anyone who dares to approach her one more step, kill without mercy!" His last words were almost hissed through clenched teeth, carrying an intense murderous intent that made even Kevin shiver.
Kevin immediately stepped forward, picked up the badge from the ground, and respectfully replied, "Yes, Mr. Zhuo." He glanced at Phyllis, his eyes complex, seemingly warning her, yet also pitying her.
John didn't look at Phyllis again. He turned and strode out of the warehouse. His back remained straight, but Phyllis could feel the exhaustion and pain radiating from him.
Phyllis stood rooted, watching John's retreating figure, her heart a mix of emotions, like an overturned palette. His reaction just now, that whispered "Yaya," those fragmented murmurs, all confirmed to her that John's memories were awakening. He hadn't completely forgotten her; he was just suppressed by something. This ignited a spark of hope in her, but his fleeting coldness was like a bucket of ice water, dousing her completely. That badge was clearly the key to awakening his memories, but it might also be the fuse that ignited deeper pain.
John had already begun secretly planning to uproot the "Shadow" organization. And Phyllis, after experiencing this brush with death, felt even more complex emotions towards John. She was touched by his timely appearance and his desperate protection, yet she also ached for his confined memories and his occasional erratic behavior. She realized that their relationship was no longer simple control versus resistance, but a deeper bond and an entanglement of fate.
She looked down, seeing the iris handkerchief on the ground, and bent to pick it up. The handkerchief still held John's body heat, and a faint scent of blood. She gripped the handkerchief tightly, her eyes resolute. This battle had just begun, and she knew it would be a tough one! A tough battle of love, memory, and life and death! She had to fight with all her might, help him retrieve all his memories, expose the true face of the "Shadow" organization, and only then could she decide whether what lay between them was love or hatred.