Chapter 216: I Acted Well

Yang Yi watched for a long time; the air was terrifyingly silent.

It was already dusk; the sunset on the horizon was a wash of red and orange, reflecting on the surrounding trees and villas as if draped in a layer of blood.

"Prohibition on any form of investigative probing: Never question the past she does not voluntarily mention. Prohibition on forced acceleration: Any attempt to hasten the relationship's progress will lead to total failure..." Yang Yi recited slowly, her tone so calm it felt oppressive, "Why don't you follow these two rules?"

Chris just gazed at her silently and said with a faint self-mockery, "I don't want to follow them anymore."

Yang Yi continued reading.

【When the target feels an artistic resonance that transcends utility, their defense level will drop significantly.】 Below this rule were suggested topics: comments she had written years ago on a literary discussion board about an obscure Nordic film. The subject of Chris's first long conversation with her had been that very film.

【Core Strategy 4.1: 'Never ask directly. She must feel that she discovered you on her own and, out of a savior's mindset, offered care.'】 She recalled when they discussed his first film, "Afternoon," and its lack of success; he had shown vulnerability: "... These experiences are hardly worth mentioning, are they?... Do you think I'm putting on an act, complaining without cause?"

She had indeed offered care. How had she answered? "... I have always believed that pain cannot be compared... one can only feel one's own pain."

Yang Yi looked at Chris, her gaze carrying an extraordinary scrutiny and strangeness, with not a trace of her past shyness or gentleness.

Chris had never seen such an expression on her face, and she had never faced him with such a countenance before.

He remembered the CIA's analysis of her: "Once she discovers manipulation, her reaction will not be anger, but a cold, thorough self-enclosure and detachment, irretrievable by apology or compensation."

He had long since memorized these intelligence analyses—initially with the resentment of being coerced, but later he had actively memorized and studied them.

From that time on, he began to lose track of which performances were for the mission and which outpourings came from the heart.

It turned out she truly had this side, yet she had never shown it before him.

He realized that her previous attitude toward him had been special; back then, he was a treasure to her, a lover, a perfect mirror she projected onto—but from now on, he was an enemy, an insignificant insect, even garbage.

"When did the CIA approach you? When did you become their spy?" she asked again, her voice steady, her tone devoid of mockery, purely factual.

Yet this extreme calm made his heart sink deeper and deeper, as if plummeting into some profound depth where he could no longer feel his own body.

Chris looked back into her eyes.

Her gaze did not waver; it was so calm as if it had discarded all interference from emotional factors.

No matter how skilled Chris was at detecting others' emotions, at this moment, from her, he could feel only an abyss-like, eternal silence.

"That time on the filming set, you saved me; the scene was captured by surveillance. A few days later, they found me and proposed cooperation."

Chris spoke numbly; his soul seemed to have scattered into the air, leaving only a shell sitting on the sofa, answering questions by instinct: "They said that as long as I got close to you and provided them with some information about you, I could make any demands of them."

"And then?" Yang Yi continued, her gaze not leaving his expression.

"I refused." Chris continued, "A day later, I received an email containing surveillance photos of my family: my mother, my sister, my nephew, and my father... My agent suddenly called me; several films I had just signed for suddenly announced they were replacing my role; several projects I invested in suddenly exploded; several companies under my name were suddenly found to have tax issues and were facing investigation by the tax bureau... Whether I was at home or out, someone was watching me at all times..."

"After you dealt with the Fire Demon, the day before the banquet in Jin Shan, they found me and gave me some documents." He looked at the CIA intelligence on the screen.

Yang Yi's gaze fixed on the screen.

The air fell silent for a moment; the blood-colored sunset slowly faded, and the gray-blue night drew its curtain.

Yang Yi stared expressionlessly at the computer screen, thinking coldly: What exquisite acting; he didn't even win Best Actor. The Oscar judges are truly blind.

At this moment, it seemed all emotions had retreated behind the scenes, with only reason guiding her feelings and actions.

"Does someone direct every word and action of yours?" Yang Yi tapped the screen.

"No, they only gave me some suggestions; I was free to improvise." Chris, with a wooden face, suddenly smiled. He looked at Yang Yi. "I acted well, didn't I?" He raised his head in a mocking manner.

Gazing at that extremely handsome face and those eyes as deep as the ocean, Yang Yi still could not distinguish whether this was acting or sincerity.

But she did not want to ask; from now on, she would harbor suspicion toward any of his actions and words.