The Unlucky Turn by Mark Twain 349
Otherwise, Zeus wouldn’t have been so insanely jealous when he misunderstood that Leilani was part of Floyd’s team.
Floyd beamed, patting her on the shoulder. “Good! Then it’s a deal. Let’s keep in touch! If you run into any difficult cases or make any new discoveries, give me a call anytime! I may be an old bag of bones, but my brain isn’t mush yet. I might still be able to offer you some advice!”
Leilani couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, it’s a promise.”
Floyd nodded with satisfaction, then added, “By the way, regarding the research team, do think it over seriously. No rush to answer. Just let me know when you’ve made up your mind.”
Leilani nodded solemnly. “I will consider it carefully. I’ll call you the moment I decide.”
Floyd finally relaxed completely and waved his hand. “Alright, it’s getting dark. Go on home.”
He paused again, adding, “Also, I don’t know what Mr. Chilton said to you, but if he gave you something, make sure you keep it safe. It will be very useful when you need help.”
Given Mr. Chilton’s status, Floyd couldn’t be too explicit.
Leilani nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
Floyd waved his hand contentedly. “Drive safe. Message me when you get there.”
Leilani acknowledged him and turned toward the parking lot.
Floyd stood there, watching Leilani’s figure disappear into the twilight, and couldn’t resist sighing again. That girl was truly a rare talent. He hoped she would make the choice that was best for her.
He shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly strolled back.
The last ray of sunset vanished below the horizon, and night quietly descended.
Sitting in her car, Leilani didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, she took out the ancient jade pendant and rubbed it gently between her fingers.
A man who could transfer a hundred million dollars at the drop of a hat….
A prominent identity that even Floyd Dillon spoke of with guarded reverence…
Who exactly was Mr. Chilton?
Leilani took a deep breath, tucked the pendant away carefully, and started the car, driving away from the villa. In the rearview mirror, Floyd’s figure grew smaller until it vanished into the dusk. She withdrew her gaze, stepped on the gas, and headed toward Alloy City.
Some things couldn’t be rushed. And some favors might just come in handy one day in the future.
Meanwhile, ever since being rejected by Floyd, Zeus had become somewhat paranoid, bordering on obsession with his medical studies.
16:04
It just so happened that Zeus had a surgery scheduled for that afternoon.
Inside the operating room, the cold white light of the shadowless lamp illuminated the operating table. Zeus’s fingers, clad in sterile gloves, tightened slightly. The scalpel in his hand glinted with a grim chill.
There was a large screen in the operating room. The screen displayed a real-time high-definition feed of the procedure, while a smaller adjacent screen showed the patient’s medical records, detailing the primary condition.
The patient Zeus was operating on today was a 56-year-old male. He had been admitted for an aortic dissection, Stanford Type B. Pre-op assessment showed weak vessel walls, indicating extremely high surgical risk.
Initially, the surgery proceeded smoothly. But for some reason, just as Zeus was guiding the metal guidewire into the femoral artery, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind like a demon’s whisper. “If I switch to open-heart surgery and repair the aorta directly, wouldn’t it be more thorough?”
16.04
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