I'm a Master in India

Kavya's skin was a light tan, appearing healthy and firm. But it wasn't until Ron touched her that he realized he was wrong; it was an indescribable softness.

Outside, flames soared, and screams echoed in the streets. They couldn't leave, forced to huddle in this small room. Their eyes met, locked, and a strange impulse surged from the depths of their hearts.

Kavya approached him, the firelight from the window illuminating her eyes. She lowered her head and threw herself into his arms.

They embraced, then fell together. The room was filled with her scent, just as Ron always remembered it.

They comforted each other in this chaotic night, needing to press their chests close, so close they could feel each other's heartbeats.

The fires of Qingzheng Temple, the gasoline on Mahala's body, the screams outside—all stimulated and suppressed them.

Ron lingered in the cave of pleasure all night, throwing all his anger, fear, and desire into it.

When the streets returned to silence, he collapsed into the softness and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up again, Kavya was no longer by his side; she was standing at the window, talking on the phone.

Ron yawned and climbed out of bed, feeling the aftereffects of last night's indulgence. But it wasn't a bad thing; at least the gloom in his heart had been swept away.

Kavya was only wearing a thin nightgown, and with the bright light from the window behind her, the charming scenery was on full display.

Well, Ron's bro had already risen to pay his respects; it was standing tall.

"Looks like last night wasn't your limit," Kavya said, walking over and boldly using her one-finger technique.

"You better not provoke it, I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself."

"No wonder so many girls like you, turns out you have so much to work with."

"This is just a tiny bit of my formidable strength. Tell me, what news did you find out?"

"The trigger for the riots was a tragedy that occurred in the Jogeshwari district."

"Tragedy?" Ron frowned; he hated that word now.

"It happened on the night of January 8th. In that slum, there were Hindus and Muslims living in separate sections. A tenement building inhabited by a Hindu family happened to be located in the Muslim area.

Then, while this family was sound asleep, someone sealed their door from the outside and threw a gasoline bomb through the window. The six family members were awakened by the explosion, screaming as they tried to escape.

They didn't succeed and were eventually burned alive in the house. Among them was the family's daughter, a disabled Hindu girl."

"God," Ron said, rubbing his head. He hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but just thinking about the scene was shocking enough.

Especially for the Hindus who had been brainwashed by the sect; they would definitely not tolerate this.

"There's another version that says the disabled Hindu girl was held down on the ground before she died, and twenty or so heretics, that is, Muslims, violated her.

Neighbors said that her screams and the cries of her relatives, locked inside the house and licked by flames, echoed through the sky. In the end, they didn't spare her either; she was thrown into the fire, where her family lay."

Ron was rendered speechless. This was something no human would do, but of course, the Hindus weren't exactly angels either.

"Some say that the Shiva army deliberately exaggerated the situation, stirring up the Hindus to seek revenge against the Muslims. But no matter what, this city is finished, at least for now."

Kavya's tone was full of anger, but her eyes were full of sadness. She had been going to school in America since junior high, but she still loved this country.

"Mumbai won't stay this chaotic; someone will clean it up eventually," Ron sighed. His business was over too.

"I have to go to the newspaper; there's the latest news there. I want to write a special report," she said, starting to get dressed and gather her office supplies.

"I'll take you; it's too chaotic outside," Ron said, worried about her going alone. Besides, Viraj's motorcycle needed to be returned.

Kavya was interning at The Times of India, a famous newspaper in India. Her family had pulled a lot of strings to get her into this newspaper.

The streets outside were chaotic, but they hadn't completely lost order. The tardy police had finally begun to strictly maintain law and order today.

But the Muslim residential areas and the stores opened by Muslims were still the focus of people's attention. Such a great opportunity; it would be a shame not to seize it for some free shopping.

Ron successfully took Kavya to the newspaper, then he drove the motorcycle to Leopold Cafe.

It was a mess here, with hardly any customers. Fortunately, Viraj was already waiting at the intersection; he seemed to know Ron was coming.

"You have to come to the hospital with me," he said impatiently as soon as they met.

"What happened?"

"Luca, that unlucky bastard, came at the worst possible time."

Ron learned from Viraj that Luca had already arrived in Mumbai yesterday. Unfortunately, he ran into the riots as soon as he left the airport.

When the Hindus and Muslims were fighting, a metal rod flew in from somewhere. He got hit on the head and fell straight down.

In the end, the police took him to the hospital; otherwise, if this guy had been lying on the ground all night, he would have been stripped clean the next day.

His clothes, shoes, watch... these were valuable things that could be sold for a good price in the eyes of the slum dwellers.

"He called you from the hospital, but you weren't home or at the company." Saying this, Viraj gave him a teasing look. "Did you score?"

"I took her to the newspaper this morning," Ron said, giving a very Indian neck wobble.

"I knew it, it's easy for you to get into a woman's bed," Viraj said, his face looking like he had swallowed a lemon.

"What about you?" Ron suddenly became gossipy.

"Hera is very proud; she gave me a good scolding, saying that all Indians are perverts. I know she wasn't talking about me; she was just triggered by yesterday's events."

"That makes sense," Ron silently gave this master of imagination a thumbs up.

"Okay, stop talking nonsense. Let's go see Luca first. You disappeared for a whole night; poor Luca didn't know how many times he called you, until he remembered me in the morning."

After learning that Ron had scored, Viraj suddenly lost interest in the discussion. He began to blame Ron for not caring about his friend's life, and his words were practically sticking the label of "valuing sex over friendship" on Ron's forehead.

When they arrived at Grant Hospital, they were shocked by the scene there. Everywhere they looked were corpses, male and female, without names, only numbers.

The riots were obviously not as simple as burning one or two heretics; this was a scene that could only be seen during wartime.

A rough glance revealed that there were at least fifty corpses lying in the courtyard. Ron couldn't bear to look closely at their miserable state.

The two hurried into the ward, the scene outside washing away their previous ease.

The ward was even more chaotic, filled with cries of pain. There were men and women, old and young, Hindus and Muslims.

The perpetrators and the victims lay side by side, staring at each other with hatred.

Although the atmosphere here was still tense, Ron and Viraj breathed a sigh of relief in unison. No matter what, it was better than the dead silence outside.

They found Luca in a separate corner, guarded by two policemen. Ron stepped forward and spoke to them for a few words, and learned that it was someone from the Immigration Bureau who was guarding him.

In this sensitive period, foreigners who had just arrived in Mumbai always made the Indian authorities suspicious. They had faintly heard rumors that the Muslims in the Persian Gulf were preparing to carry out bloody revenge.

Fortunately, Luca didn't look like a bearded man from Persia at all. With Ron's guarantee and his complete passport, the police took a bribe of 200 rupees and left silently.

"God, is India about to erupt into a civil war?" Luca, with bandages still wrapped around his head, looked dejected.

"Those policemen may be eager to take money, but they won't let Mumbai really fall into chaos. But you, how can you miraculously seem to be okay?" Ron looked at him in surprise.

"Dude, this is a concussion! The doctor said I have to lie in bed for at least a week, damn it, I'm starting to miss the girls at Leopold Cafe."

"Why did you come to Mumbai at this time? Don't you watch the news?" Viraj asked.

"No decent person watches the news. Brazilians never watch the news; Brazilians just wait for the street bosses to speak."

"Then you're out of luck. By the way, did you sell all the goods?" Ron was more concerned about the purpose of his visit.

The tourism business was definitely going to be ruined for the time being, so the drug business became the key. Speaking of this topic, Luca perked up.

"I'm kind of a big shot in Rio de Janeiro now," Luca said proudly, but he quickly became sad again, "But just after returning to this city that brought me wealth, I was robbed again."

Ron and Viraj exchanged glances, "You were robbed?"

"That's right, I was lying on the ground. When I woke up, the three thousand dollars in my bag was gone. I suspect it was the two policemen who just did it. During gang fights, no one would rob a sick person lying on the ground; I have a lot of experience with that. But no one told me where the money went, and no one said they would investigate it."

"They at least saved you," Ron comforted him.

This was the truth; although the police were greedy, they still had some integrity and didn't leave Luca on the street.

"Luckily, I'm smart," Luca said smugly, scratching his crotch, where a secret compartment was hidden.

"You really are a talent!" Ron scolded with a laugh, it seemed that this trick worked all over the world.

"You're right, this time I brought another big deal!" Luca said excitedly, sitting up from the bed.

"What big—"

Before Ron could finish speaking, a commotion suddenly broke out in the hall. They turned their heads, and the Hindus and Muslims were fighting again.

One side pulled out the IV needle and slammed the saline bottle hard at the enemy. The other side waved the IV drip pole and struck hard at the other's head.

A new round of war broke out, and the entire hall was in chaos.

"Quick! Run!" Luca jumped up from the hospital bed, tore off the bandage on his head, and ran away in a flash.

What kind of medical miracle was this? Ron and Viraj also slipped away.

Forget about the big deal; running for their lives came first.