Chapter 361: MI6? My Brother Loves Watching Your Movies

The gilded Crown and Lion Badge, like a red‑hot branding iron, seared the retinas of everyone in the office.

Lu Qingjun's pupils instantaneously contracted to the size of a needle tip, his whole body froze there like a statue suddenly eroded. The blood that had just been rushing through his veins seemed to be drained in that instant, his limbs turned icy, his mind a blank.

Military Intelligence Section 6.

MI6.

This is not a business rival, not a financial conglomerate; it is the sharpest, darkest knife of the never‑setting empire, an extension of Her Majesty the Queen's will.

It's over.

It was the only thought in Lu Qingjun's mind; he staggered backward, knocked over a chair behind him, producing a harsh "Clang" that echoed, yet he felt nothing.

"Thump."

Li Junjie's legs gave out again, and he plopped onto the floor; this time no one helped him. He tilted his head back, staring blankly at the screaming Red Telephone, his lips trembling yet unable to produce any sound. He felt as if he were not in an investment firm but had stumbled into an underground bunker about to launch a nuclear missile, and that Badge was the key to the launch shaft.

David Cohen instinctively stepped back half a pace, his back slamming into the wall; behind his gold‑rimmed glasses, his eyes were for the first time filled with an emotion called Fear. He could gamble against the market, could contend with conglomerates, but damn it, he had never imagined dealing with a nation's intelligence agency!

In the whole office, only two people were exceptions.

Ye Ning, her face still flushed with that fanatical redness, her eyes even sparking with a hint of anticipation, as if everything before her was the ultimate thrill she had pursued all her life.

The other was Lu Qingshan.

He still sat there, back to the crowd, as if the ringing behind him that could make any billionaire's heart stop was merely an ordinary alarm clock.

"Answer."

He uttered a word, his voice calm and unruffled.

Ye Ning stepped forward, took a deep breath, and pressed the speakerphone button.

"Zzz—"

After a faint electric hum, a voice came from the other end of the phone. It was a man's voice, ageless, but his accent was the purest upper‑class London tone, each word carved as if with a chisel—cold, precise, devoid of any feeling, as if it came not from a human throat but from a sophisticated machine.

"Is this Mr. Lu Qingshan?"

Lu Qingjun's heart was clenched tight by that question; he even dared not breathe, staring fixedly at his brother's silhouette.

Lu Qingshan did not answer, but lifted the tea cup before him, and gently blew at the floating tea leaves at the rim toward the microphone.

"Hoo—"

That faint airflow, captured by the high‑fidelity microphone, reached the other end of the phone with crystal clarity, sounding unbearably sharp in the dead‑silent office.

The other end of the phone fell silent.

A full three seconds.

Those three seconds felt to Lu Qingjun like a century; he felt himself on the verge of suffocation.

Finally, that cold voice sounded again, this time with a barely perceptible stiffness born of offense.

"Mr. Lu, I am Military Intelligence Section 6, Asia Affairs Director Douglas. I suppose you now understand what kind of organization you are speaking with."

"I know," Lu Qingshan finally spoke, taking a sip of tea before answering unhurriedly, "My brother loves your movies."

"Pff—"

Lu Qingjun nearly spat out a mouthful of old blood; his eyes rolled, his body swayed, and if he hadn't grabbed the nearby table he feared he would become the first person to die on the spot, frightened to death by his own brother's words. Is this a joke to the MI6 director? Is he playing humor with his own life?

David Cohen also staggered, leaning against the wall, feeling his worldview being reshaped. He could even imagine the face of the impeccably dressed Imperial operative on the other end of the phone at that moment, what a spectacular expression it would wear.

Douglas on the other end was clearly choked by that reply; he fell silent again, the office air heavy as mercury.

"Mr. Lu!" Douglas's voice suddenly rose, the cold exterior finally cracking open a fissure, revealing a stern interior, "This is not a movie! This is not a joke! You have, through abnormal commercial means, stockpiled strategic materials sufficient to affect our nation's security, and you have sent a Quotation Sheet with extortionate nature to the Prime Minister's Office! Your actions have seriously violated the National Security Act, and I can authorize your arrest at any time!"

A threat, unabashed, a direct threat from the Imperial Violent Machine.

Lu Qingjun's complexion could no longer be called pallid; he felt as if he were seeing the cold waters of the Thames River.

Yet the response to that thunderous anger was a faint snicker from Lu Qingshan.

"Mr. Douglas, I think you have mistaken several things."

Lu Qingshan set down his tea cup, rose slowly, walked to the map, gazing at the tiny island outline of the United Kingdom, his voice carrying a lofty composure.

"First, I am a businessman. I buy goods on the open market with real gold and silver, all actions within the rules of the London Futures Exchange. If this counts as illegal, then the first to be arrested should be the exchange's chairman, not me."

"Second, I have not stockpiled. I merely forecasted market demand and satisfied it in advance. As for why the Royal Navy suddenly needs so many supplies, I think you should ask the Navy Logistics Department, not me, an ordinary foreign investor."

"Third, and most importantly," Lu Qingshan turned, a playful curl at his mouth, "I am not extorting; I am quoting. A quotation based on risk, on market scarcity, on my goodwill. After all, if I don't sell, your aircraft carrier will probably have to set sail with wood and blankets."

"You!" Douglas on the other end was utterly enraged, his breathing becoming heavy.

"What?" Lu Qingshan cut him off, his voice suddenly cold, "Mr. Douglas, put away your scare tactics. If you truly could arrest me, the one standing in my office now would not be my employee, but your task force."

"The reason you called me isn't because you want to arrest me, but because you need what I have. And I happen to be the only person in all of Europe who can deliver those items within a month."

"So, save your effort. If you want to do business, I'm happy to. If you want to discuss the National Security Act with me, then go find the lawyer my company hired in London. I'm busy, I have no time to play spy games with you."

"Doo—"

Having said that, Lu Qingshan directly signaled Ye Ning to hang up the phone.

The whole office was dead silent.

Lu Qingjun stood with his mouth open, maintaining the near‑fainting posture, motionless.

David Cohen leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor, muttering continuously, "Madman... madman... no, he is a god... a god who toys with the devil as a monkey..."

Li Junjie had completely given up thinking; he simply stared dumbly at the man who had hung up the MI6 call and walked back to the tea station as if nothing had happened, feeling his own soul had already left his body.

Ye Ning stood in place, her chest heaving violently, those dazzling eyes fixed on Lu Qingshan as if to carve his silhouette into her own life.

Amid this dead silence, the Red Telephone rang again, unyielding.

It was still that Badge, stubbornly spinning on the screen, the sharp ringtone tearing the office's tranquility.

Ye Ning subconsciously glanced at Lu Qingshan.

"Let it ring." Lu Qingshan lifted the teapot, leisurely topping up his cup, the hazy steam rising anew.

He watched the tea leaves drifting in his cup and said lightly, "Give the thirsty one some time, let them think clearly about who truly needs this cup of water."

The telephone's ringtone persisted stubbornly for a full minute, then stopped.

The office fell back into a heart‑pounding silence.

In under thirty seconds, another ordinary office phone rang.