What the hell is the "kill line" when you're in America?

"That's the most... pragmatic comment I've ever heard."

The distance between the two people has been reduced to half a meter.

Li Ang could smell the faint scent of perfume on her.

"you're right."

Isabella turned around, her back to the painting, and faced the group of so-called elites who were still whispering among themselves.

"This thing is hanging here, and apart from making a bunch of people who don't understand it at all pretend to frown and nod, it really doesn't serve any other purpose."

But when they realized that the speaker was Isabella, they swallowed back the words that were on the tip of their tongues.

In this circle, no one dares to contradict Isabella.

Not just because her last name is Campbell.

"Let's go."

Isabella turned around and raised an eyebrow at Li Ang.

"It's too stuffy here."

After she finished speaking, she didn't care whether Li Ang agreed or not, nor did she care about the reactions of the people around her. She walked straight towards the exit in her ten-centimeter-high black stilettos.

Li Ang stood there, watching her retreating figure.

[Kill threshold: High (???)]

The line of question marks, shrouded in golden mist, swayed above her head.

Li Ang took off and followed.

This is a mobile gold mine.

Moreover, it was a gold mine that opened its doors to him willingly.

There is no reason to refuse.

The two walked out of the exhibition hall one after the other.

The sunlight outside was a bit too bright.

Isabella stood on the steps, took out a pair of large sunglasses from her handbag and put them on, covering her deep eyes.

A silver-gray Aston Martin DBS is parked in the VIP parking space at the entrance.

The streamlined body gleamed coldly in the sunlight, like a shark poised to pounce.

When the valet saw Isabella come out, he immediately ran over and respectfully handed her the keys.

Isabella took the key, tossed it in her hand, and turned to look at Li Ang.

"Can you drive?"

"Yes," Li Ang replied.

"How's the technology?"

"good."

"Then you drive."

Isabella tossed the keys to Leon and opened the passenger door, getting in herself.

Li Ang caught the key.

The metallic texture is cold and heavy.

He walked around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat.

The leather seats offered excellent comfort, and the cabin was filled with the same cool, refreshing scent as Isabella's.

"Where to?" Li Ang asked.

He didn't rush to start the car, but first adjusted the seat and rearview mirrors.

The movements were practiced and natural.

Isabella turned her head and looked at him through her sunglasses.

The man's profile was very sharp, with a high nose bridge and a jawline so clear it looked like it had been carved with a knife.

Most importantly, his eyes.

Even in this small, enclosed space, his eyes remained as calm as a still pond, unmoved by the presence of a stunningly beautiful woman beside him or the presence of a luxury car on the steering wheel.

This tranquility gave Isabella a long-lost sense of freshness.

She was used to men who deliberately put on airs in front of her, their eyes filled with desire and calculation.

In contrast, Li Ang is like an unpolished obsidian.

Hard, rough, but real.

"casual."

Isabella crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair to find a more comfortable position.

"Find a place where you can drink, as long as it's not one of those stupid bars that only tourists go to."

Li Ang nodded.

He pressed the start button.

The V12 engine let out a deep roar, the sound echoing through the empty streets.

The car slid out of the parking space and merged into the traffic.

Li Ang drove very steadily.

But he did not take Isabella to those so-called private clubs or upscale lounges.

Twenty minutes later.

The Aston Martin stopped in front of a seemingly unremarkable jazz bar.

This place is located at the intersection of the financial district and the old town.

There was no neon sign at the entrance, only a wooden plaque with "The Blue Note" engraved on it, hanging on the brick wall.

"here?"

Isabella took off her sunglasses and looked around at her surroundings.

This place is quite far from her usual area, and you can even see several homeless people wandering around in the distance.

"The wine here is good."

Li Ang turned off the engine and removed the key.

"And it's quiet."

Isabella glanced at him, a playful smile playing on her lips.

"OK."

She pushed open the door and got out of the car.

The bar was dimly lit, with the languid melody of a saxophone drifting through the air.

There weren't many customers at that time.

Only a few traders who looked like they had just finished get off work sat in a corner, talking quietly.

Li Ang found a seat by the window and sat down.

The street is right outside the window, and you can clearly see the Aston Martin parked on the side of the road, as well as the pedestrians passing by.

This is his habit.

Wherever you are, make sure you are in a position where you can attack or defend, and where you have a good view.

A bartender wearing a vest walked over.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Whiskey, neat," Li Ang said.

"Same." Isabella placed her sunglasses on the table.

After the bartender left, a brief silence fell between the two.

Isabella rested her chin on her hand, her light brown eyes fixed on Li Ang.

She didn't seem to think there was anything impolite about staring at others like that.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Li Ang".

"Li Ang," Isabella repeated, her tongue curling over the syllable with a strange rhythm, "doesn't sound like an art connoisseur."

"I was never that way."

"Then what are you?"

Isabella leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

"Bodyguard? Assassin? Or some rich kid who ran away from home because he didn't want to inherit the family business?"

Her gaze swept over Li Ang's well-tailored but unbranded suit.

The clothes fit perfectly, but they were definitely not ready-made clothes you could buy in a department store.

And he has calluses on his hands.

The tiger's mouth (between the thumb and index finger).

Those are marks left from years of holding a gun.

"I am a gardener," Li Ang said.

"A gardener?" Isabella paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

Li Ang shook his head, his expression serious.

"I'm also responsible for pruning some crooked branches and clearing away some useless weeds."

"Let the places that should grow grow, and let the places that should die die."

Isabella looked into his eyes.

She could tell he wasn't joking.

Although this analogy sounds awkward, and even a bit childish.

But when he said it, it carried a convincingly bloody tone.

"It sounds like a physically demanding job."

Isabella stopped smiling and tapped her fingers lightly on the table.

"And it's very dirty."

"Someone has to do it," Li Ang said calmly.

At that moment, the bartender came over with two glasses of whiskey.

The amber-colored liquid sloshed in the glass.

Isabella simply picked up her glass and clinked it against the glass in Li Ang's hand.

"Respect for gardeners."

She tilted her head back and drank half of it in one gulp.