PFC Chapter 1210 Want a drink? To relax a bit?
Chapter 1210 Want a drink? To relax a bit?
Next to the wine cabinet was a huge floor-to-ceiling window, covered with heavy velvet curtains in a deep red color, embroidered with exquisite patterns, which shut out everything outside.
Zhou Zhengqing took off his coat, stretched, and a hint of fatigue was visible on his face.
Although he appeared calm on the surface during the attack, he was actually under immense mental tension. Now, back in this warm and safe room, his taut nerves were finally able to relax a little.
I walked up to the liquor cabinet, stopped, and scanned the various fine wines inside before finally settling on a bottle of whiskey.
I opened the glass door of the liquor cabinet, reached in, and took out the bottle of whiskey. Then, from the bottom shelf of the cabinet, I took out two exquisite crystal glasses. The glasses were crystal clear and had delicate patterns carved on them. Under the light, they gleamed with a cool, ethereal luster.
He closed the glass door of the liquor cabinet, turned around, and looked at Terauchi Hisaichi standing in the center of the room. A faint smile appeared on his lips, and his tone became slightly more relaxed, breaking the silence in the room: "Uncle, after that fright just now, you must be a little tired. How about having a drink? To relax?"
Terauchi Hisaichi did not answer immediately. He remained standing in the center of the room, motionless like a statue.
He was still wearing a crisp military uniform, without a single wrinkle, and the stars on his epaulets gleamed with a cold and dignified light in the glow of the fireplace.
He rested his hands on the military knife at his waist. The knife's hilt was black, inlaid with a large gemstone that gleamed with a cold, eerie light. The knife's scabbard was dark brown, engraved with exquisite patterns, highlighting his status and position.
Just now, outside, at the scene, at the hospital, the calmness on his face had completely faded, replaced by a seriousness, even solemnity.
He didn't take the wine glass from Zhou Zhengqing's hand, nor did he even glance at it. Instead, he stared intently at Zhou Zhengqing with a complex expression that contained gratitude, appreciation, and a hint of barely perceptible expectation.
After a long while, he suddenly moved, leaning forward slightly, slowly removing his hands from the military knife and placing them at his sides. Then, he bowed deeply and formally to Zhou Zhengqing.
His movements were steady and solemn, without the slightest perfunctoriness. Every detail was taken very seriously, as if the person he was bowing to was not Zhou Zhengqing, but someone of higher status and more worthy of respect.
This action caused Zhou Zhengqing's hand, which was pouring wine, to pause slightly.
The amber liquid in the bottle, which was slowly flowing into the glass, stopped at the rim of the bottle because of his pause. A few drops of liquid slid down the rim and dripped onto the marble coffee table.
Zhou Zhengqing's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.
He didn't flinch, nor did he immediately step forward to help Terauchi Hisaichi. He simply stood quietly in place, still holding the bottle of whiskey and two glasses in his hands, calmly watching Terauchi Hisaichi bend down.
After about three seconds, Terauchi Hisaichi slowly straightened up and resumed his previous posture, resting his hands on his military sword again. His posture remained as upright as a pine tree, but the solemnity on his face did not diminish at all; on the contrary, it became even more pronounced.
His gaze remained fixed on Zhou Zhengqing, his eyes deep, his tone heavy and firm, each word seemingly carefully considered, carrying an undeniable sincerity: "Tuoren-jun, this bow is to express my gratitude."
Zhou Zhengqing slowly withdrew his gaze and poured the whiskey in his hand into two glasses. The amber liquid flowed slowly into the glasses from the bottle, making a soft "splashing" sound that was particularly clear in the quiet room.
He poured the liquor into the glasses, filling them about seven-tenths full. He put the bottle back in the liquor cabinet, picked up two glasses, and gently swirled the amber liquid inside. The liquor rippled in the glasses, reflecting the flickering flames of the fireplace.
He walked to the sofa, sat down, and placed a wine glass on the coffee table in front of him.
He leaned back slightly against the soft sofa, his gaze fixed on the wine clinging to the glass. He seemed somewhat indifferent, his tone flat and unreadable, as if Terauchi Hisaichi's solemn bow had not moved him in the slightest.
"Thank you? Thank you for helping you deal with a useless puppet?"
Upon hearing this, Terauchi Hisaichi shook his head slightly. He then walked over to the sofa opposite Zhou Zhengqing and sat down.
He didn't touch the other glass of wine on the coffee table, his hands remained on his knees, his posture was impeccable, his back straight, without the slightest relaxation.
His gaze remained fixed on Zhou Zhengqing, his eyes sincere, his tone heavy and firm.
"More than that. Tuoren, I thank you not only for helping me get rid of that useless puppet Wang Kemin, but also for your... decisiveness and wisdom."
More importantly, thank you for shielding me and my family from a potential storm—a storm that could have destroyed the Terauchi family.
Zhou Zhengqing paused slightly as he swirled his wine glass. He looked up, his gaze falling on Terauchi Hisaichi's face, his eyes deep. He didn't speak, but simply watched him quietly, waiting for him to continue.
He knew that what Terauchi Hisaichi was about to say was the most crucial thing, and what he most wanted to hear.
Terauchi Hisaichi took a deep breath, as if trying to suppress all the emotions in his heart.
His gaze was slightly unfocused, as if he could see the distant capital city through Zhou Zhengqing, the powerful elders who held sway there, and his political enemies who were eyeing him with predatory intent and wanting to kill him.
His tone became heavier and more serious, each word carrying a hint of barely perceptible worry and fear: "Tuoren, you should know that what happened today is no accident, it is an assassination attempt by the Military Intelligence Bureau."
Their target is Wang Kemin, that puppet, but also you and me.
Wang Kemin's death is no loss. He was merely a useless traitor, a tool used by the empire to appease the people of North China and implement a "using Chinese to control Chinese" strategy. With him gone, we can simply replace him with another. There are plenty of people who want to be this tool, who want to be dependent on us, and who want to enjoy wealth and luxury.
He paused, his tone becoming more serious, his eyes filled with worry and unease: "But you are different, Takuto."
You are a descendant of the Takasaki family, a young man on whom the old men of Kyoto place high hopes, and a pillar of our great Japanese Empire in the future.
Your status is incomparably noble; your safety concerns the honor and disgrace of the Takasaki family, the interests of many people in Kyoto, and even more so, the future of our Great Japanese Empire and our noble lineage.