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

Isabella downed her drink and put the glass down.

"Gardener," she repeated the word.

"My garden is also quite large. Perhaps I should invite you to take a look. Maybe you can give me some professional advice."

Her voice carried a hint of lazy laughter.

Li Ang smiled to himself but did not reply.

"My fees are very high." He put down his cup.

"Oh?" Isabella raised an eyebrow. "How expensive?"

"It's not paid with money," Li Ang said.

Isabella's smile deepened.

"Then I might not be able to afford it."

As she spoke, she took a credit card out of her handbag and waved it in front of the bartender.

"Check, please." The bartender came over and swiped the card.

Isabella put away the card and stood up.

"It's getting late, Mr. Li, I think I should go home."

Leon's gaze shifted from Isabella to the view outside the window.

The Aston Martin's body lines and classic British racing green paint reflect a deep, emerald-like glow under the city's neon lights.

Looking at the car, Li Ang thought to himself, "I want to get one myself someday."

"What's wrong?" Isabella leaned forward slightly when she saw that he remained silent.

"Mr. Li, are there places you're afraid to go?"

Li Ang withdrew his gaze and looked at her again.

"I'll take you home."

He stood up and walked towards the door.

Isabella followed behind him, her high heels clicking crisply on the wooden floor.

The two walked out of the bar, the night breeze carrying the coolness of the street.

Li Ang opened the car door and got into the driver's seat.

Isabella also got into the passenger seat.

The car door closed, shutting out the noise from the outside world.

The car was quiet, with only the soft breathing of the two people inside.

"Bellview, Evergreen Point Road, 18," Isabella gave an address.

Li Ang started the car, and the engine sounded very deep.

"What exactly does a gardener do?" Isabella suddenly asked.

"Weed." Li Ang looked ahead.

"Just weeding?"

"Sometimes we loosen the soil or transplant things," Li Ang said.

"Move what's growing in the wrong place to where it should be."

Isabella remained silent for a few seconds.

"It sounds like you have a lot of rules in your garden."

"Without rules, the garden will be ruined," Li Ang replied.

"Weeds will devour all the nutrients, and vines will strangle all the trees."

In the end, nothing was left.

Isabella turned her head and looked at Li Ang's profile.

The streetlights cast intermittent shadows on his face.

"What if some plants just don't want to grow where you want them to?" she asked.

"Then cut it off," Li Ang replied without hesitation.

"What if it's beautiful?"

"Then it should definitely be cut off."

Isabella looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"You really are a gardener."

She reached out and gently traced her fingertips across the back of Li Ang's hand as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Your hands don't look like the hands that hold scissors," she said.

"Gardeners also use other tools," Li Ang said.

She withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair.

She stopped talking and just stared at the street scene rushing past the window.

As the car crossed the sea bridge, the city lights cast long reflections in the water.

The surrounding buildings gradually became taller and neater.

They entered Bellevue.

This is Seattle's truly affluent area, with rows of neatly trimmed, enormous trees lining the roads, concealing mansions of various styles.

The car eventually stopped in front of No. 18 Changqingdian Road.

The heavy iron gate was tightly closed, with an intricately engraved emblem at the center of the gate. On either side of the gate, high walls made of huge stones stretched into the distance, reaching the horizon.

On the top of the wall, black spherical cameras are arranged at fixed intervals, while in the shadows of the wall seams, the indicator lights of the infrared sensors flash a faint light from time to time.

Li Ang did not turn off the engine; he simply watched quietly.

Isabella didn't seem to intend to get off the bus.

"Now you see," she said, "my garden is right behind this wall."

"It's full of all kinds of plants. Some were planted by my father, some were my mother's favorites, and some I don't even know the names of myself."

She looked at the wall, as if she could see the scene inside.

Li Ang did not respond.

"So, Mr. Gardener."

Isabella turned her head and looked at him again.

"Where do you think I should start trimming?"

"Start with the most troublesome ones," Li Ang replied.

"What if every single one of them is in the way?"

"Then burn them all and replant them." Li Ang's tone was as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary.

Isabella looked at him for a long time.

Those beautiful eyes held a complex mix of emotions.

There was admiration, curiosity, and something else that Li Ang couldn't understand.

"You're a complete bastard," she suddenly said.

She straightened up and opened the car door.

"You are welcome to visit my garden anytime. Remember to bring your tools and park your car here; someone will come and take care of it."

She got out of the car and closed the door.

The heavy iron door slid open silently behind her, then closed again after she went inside.

Li Ang hung the car keys on the car door.

Having done all this, he turned around, put his hands in his pockets, and walked into the night of Bellevue.

I didn't call a car.

He walked along the wide, clean sidewalk at a leisurely pace, like an ordinary resident taking a stroll after dinner.

Fortunately, he wasn't dressed like a homeless person.

However, many people around them cast strange glances at them.

This puzzled Li Ang. Was there something wrong with what he was wearing?

But after a while, I understood. Looking at those diverse pedestrians, it seemed that they were all wearing certain brand-name clothes.

This place and Ninth Street are two completely different worlds.

One is in the clouds, the other is in the mud.

He walked for about half an hour before he saw a night bus slowly driving by.

When Li Ang returned to the bar in Ninth Street, it was even more chaotic than when he left.

Several empty bottles were on the ground, and the smell of smoke in the air was stronger.

Jack isn't here.

Derek and Scorpion, along with several of their core men, were gathered around a table, pointing at an open map of Seattle.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw Li Ang enter.

"Boss."

Derek quickly stood up, a smile plastered on his face.

Li Ang's gaze swept over his face, which was slightly flushed with excitement, and then looked at the circles drawn on the table with red marker.

"Progress is good," Li Ang said.

"Now, the surrounding neighborhoods are basically all ours."

Scorpion added from the side, "The business of Elysium Pills has also been expanded in those newly acquired territories."

Li Ang remained silent.

He walked behind the bar and poured himself a glass of water.

The other thugs in the bar stood at a distance, not daring to approach.

Their eyes were filled with awe as they looked at Li Ang.

"Where's Victor?" Leon asked, taking a sip of water.

"Mr. Victor has locked himself in his room and has been on the phone the whole time," Derek replied. "He said he's checking up on what you asked him to do, but he doesn't look too good."

Li Ang nodded.

"Where's Jack?"

"Mr. Jack is in the back warehouse," Derek pointed towards the back door. "He's training our men."

"I'll go take a look."

Li Ang put down his cup and walked towards the back door.

Derek and Scorpion exchanged a glance and quickly followed.

Inside the warehouse, dozens of thugs wearing only shorts were divided into several groups and were undergoing high-intensity physical training.

Jack moved back and forth among them like a lion surveying its territory.

He was holding a wooden stick in his hand.

"Didn't you eat?"

"stand up!"

The thug struggled, but couldn't get up.

"I...I really can't go on..." he pleaded.