Chapter 17 - Parallel Lines

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well.

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

And, as I said before, if you wish to read ahead, you can head over to my Patreon to get early access to all the translated chapters.

This could be considered house arrest, Shuai Zhaomin supposed. Sitting casually on the railing of a 37th-floor balcony, coffee in hand, he admired the New York skyline, its fiery hues set ablaze by the setting sun.

 

It had been five days since he'd been taken. If nothing else, Sara was far more straightforward than Tengshe Brelini. At least dealing with her was less suffocating—no need to swallow his pride under the constant pressure.

 

So, he had cooperatively allowed himself to be kidnapped.

 

That day in the car, Sara had retrieved a syringe from a hidden compartment, smiling sweetly at him. "Attorney Shuai, if you behave, I won't have to do anything rash."

 

Knowing when to yield was the hallmark of a wise man—a principle every lawyer lived by. Justice was worth little compared to one's own life. And when the situation smelled of danger, he was more than willing to comply.

 

Escape could come later. It wasn't worth attempting anything reckless against a woman wielding a syringe, especially when the driver up front was likely armed.

 

So, Shuai Zhaomin pressed his lips together and made a "please, go ahead" gesture, deciding to humor the ghostlike beauty sitting across from him.

 

Sara raised one exquisitely shaped brow, as though disappointed by his cooperation, and tucked the syringe away. "Attorney Shuai, you're not at all like what I've heard."

 

He smiled lazily, eyes narrowing, but said nothing. Who told her about him? And what exactly was different?

 

Should he have lunged for the syringe, subdued Sara, and heroically escaped with his oversized travel bag in tow? If this were a movie, sure, he'd go for it. Grabbing syringes, injuring his captors, taking hostages, and making a daring escape—all one-handed.

 

But he was a regular human being.

 

The moment he smiled, her violet eyes turned noticeably colder.

 

Ah, not very charming when she glares. What had Tengshe called her over the phone? "My adorable sister." He'd revise that to "adorable tigress" without hesitation.

 

"Miss Sara, is it? May I ask why you've gone to such lengths to make me your guest?" Shuai Zhaomin yawned and flashed a lazy smile. He'd cooperate, but surely she could be considerate of his exhaustion.

 

Her pristine teeth bit down on her lip, her violet gaze narrowing with an icy glint. Her slim shoulders trembled briefly, though whether from anger or the desire to kill him, he couldn't tell.

 

He yawned again, feigning drowsiness as he glanced out the window, the blurred scenery blending into abstract patterns through the tinted glass.

 

"You are important," she finally said, breaking the silence after several minutes. Shuai Zhaomin, who had almost dozed off behind his glasses, barely caught the word. "Important."

 

"Important? Me?" He let out a soft laugh, suppressing the ache in his shoulder. "Miss Sara, I'm just a small-time lawyer. In America, they're a dime a dozen—buy one, get two free."

 

If being tricked by his client, brawling with said client, getting injured, and then being kidnapped made him "important," then damn! The word "important" had really hit rock bottom these days.

 

Sara's violet eyes narrowed further as she scoffed and turned to stare out the window, cutting off the conversation.

 

And so, he was whisked away to a luxurious high-rise, confined to a penthouse, where he enjoyed a remarkably comfortable—if unasked for—house arrest.

 

His fractured ribs had healed, and the cast on his left hand had been removed. The doctor who visited daily assured him in a detached tone that he'd make a full recovery in a few days.

 

He really was resilient.

 

To be honest, life here wasn't bad. Apart from the guards at the door preventing his escape, Shuai Zhaomin was treated like a VIP. Anything he needed was provided without him even asking. Sure, he couldn't use the phone or access the internet, but there was a punching bag in the room to keep him entertained.

 

The only issue was that he hadn't seen Sara since that day.

 

Tsk! It was hard to play along without a script. Should he appear morose and indignant? Or despairing and dejected? After days of being their "guest," he felt obligated to at least consider his host's expectations.

 

Leaping down from the balcony railing, he stretched his body. The sunset was nearly gone, and the cityscape worth millions of dollars began to unfurl like a canvas of shimmering lights.

 

"What exactly is so important about me?" That lingering question was, perhaps, the reason he hadn't yet tried to escape.

 

Serg always said he was aloof but irrepressibly curious and unreasonably adventurous. Damn, his best friend knew him too well. This personality trait had certainly caused him no end of trouble.

 

"Who's important?" Damn! Turning around, his eyes widened behind his glasses. Damn it again! A haunting specter. Why hadn't anyone put a bullet through that smug grin yet? Shuai Zhaomin would have relished the sight of that man writhing in a pool of blood.

 

"Tengshe!"

 

"Oh? Is this the first time you've called me by name? Long time no see. How have you been?" Tengshe's lips, made more pronounced by his thick beard, curled into a mocking smirk. His shirt was unbuttoned to the chest, revealing taut, bronzed muscles.

 

If Shuai Zhaomin remembered correctly, today's temperature was 8 degrees Celsius—not freezing, but certainly not warm enough to be flaunting one's chest. And there was no sun; it had long since set.

 

"You don't have chest hair," Shuai Zhaomin remarked flatly. Not the best opening line, but under these circumstances, he couldn't think of anything else to say.

 

Where were the guards and the toy soldiers now? Weren't Tengshe and Sara supposed to be rivals? Why weren't they pointing guns at each other and engaging in a proper standoff? Damn it! If murder were legal, Shuai Zhaomin would gladly take care of it himself.

 

"Hmm?" Tengshe glanced down at his own chest, scratching his thick beard with a low chuckle. "I guess I'm not very hairy. Do you prefer men with chest hair, Attorney Shuai?"

 

Fuck that "not very hairy"! Behind his glasses, Shuai Zhaomin's eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile.

 

"And why are you here?" He decided to forego the verbal sparring, unable to comprehend why Tengshe always managed to irritate him so deeply. There was a peculiar restlessness stirring in his chest.

 

"Sara invited me as a guest. Then I was drugged." Tengshe pulled a cigarette from his pocket, biting one end before offering the pack to Shuai Zhaomin. "Care for one? You look in remarkably good spirits."

 

"Drugged?" Shuai Zhaomin squinted at Tengshe, who still looked as insufferable as ever. His casual manner of holding the cigarette between his lips exuded an air of reckless charm, while his reddish-brown eyes gleamed with undisguised malice.

 

"Yeah, then I got tossed in here." Tengshe shrugged his broad shoulders, sauntering toward the balcony and leaning casually against the floor-to-ceiling window. "What about you, Attorney Shuai? Why are you here?"

 

"I assumed Miss Sara would be more than happy to fill you in." Shuai Zhaomin reached out, not for the offered cigarette, but to pluck the one from Tengshe's lips and toss it to the floor, grinding it underfoot. "Sorry, no smoking in the room."

 

"Oh?" Tengshe chuckled softly, his shoulders rising in an indifferent shrug. "Fair enough. When in Rome, as they say. I still need your help, Attorney Shuai, so I can't go too wild now, can I?"

 

"You used that idiom wrong." Just because he needed help didn't mean Shuai Zhaomin was going to oblige.

 

"How about we have a coffee together?" Tengshe tucked the cigarettes back into his pocket, gesturing invitingly. Was this some alpha male power play?

 

Clicking his tongue, Shuai Zhaomin scratched his cheek, raising his empty porcelain cup. "Mr. Brelini, I have no idea what's going on or what you're planning, but I've already finished my coffee. Dinner's coming up soon."

 

"That does seem to be the case." Tengshe's reddish-brown eyes narrowed slightly as if appreciating the sprawling New York nightscape.

 

Alright. If Tengshe wasn't here to stir trouble, then they could coexist—grudgingly—for now.

 

"Black coffee?"

 

"I prefer cappuccino." Tengshe chuckled lightly, stepping aside to let Shuai Zhaomin pass back into the room. Yet, as he leaned against the glass, his body gave a slight tremor. He began to slide downward but caught himself just in time.

 

Shuai Zhaomin's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Though he didn't reach out to help, trusting neither Tengshe's track record nor his own impulse to help. Passing by, he allowed his gaze to linger momentarily on the man's face, mostly obscured by his thick beard.

 

Tengshe's honey-gold skin was faintly flushed, his breathing labored despite his attempts to control it. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead.

 

Moments ago, he'd seemed perfectly fine, full of his usual insufferable vitality. Now? Not so much. "You okay?"

 

The question escaped before Shuai Zhaomin could stop himself. He immediately wanted to bite his tongue off.

 

What was he even doing? Tengshe's condition wasn't his problem.

 

"Oh? Is Attorney Shuai worried about me?" Tengshe raised an eyebrow playfully. Despite his casual tone, his frame leaned heavily against the window, his posture unsteady.

 

But… he seemed to be trembling slightly. Shuai Zhaomin snorted softly, an involuntary laugh escaping him.

 

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm just curious what Miss Sara drugged you with." His tone was icy, but inside, Shuai Zhaomin's mind raced. A muscle relaxant, perhaps? It would be the perfect opportunity to take advantage of the situation…

 

"Nothing that would amuse you, Attorney Shuai. But it might just make you… excited." Tengshe's voice dropped into a sultry register, the deliberate emphasis dripping with insinuation.

 

Shuai Zhaomin clicked his tongue again, offering his practiced public smile. "Mr. Brelini, don't you think our relationship is a bit... off? Cooperation might be difficult under such conditions."

 

"If you're referring to the lawsuit, the hearing happened two days ago. Otto, the lawyer who took over, is a charming young man." Tengshe pulled out another cigarette, earning a disapproving hum from Shuai Zhaomin.

 

"Please don't give him a hard time. Otto just graduated—this is his first case." The words were courteous, but internally Shuai Zhaomin cursed himself. Why had he even brought it up?

 

"Quite an interesting kid." Tengshe's body slid further down this time, his strength visibly waning. Beads of sweat now trailed down his rugged features, leaving glistening streaks across his bronzed skin.

 

"Need help?" Shuai Zhaomin asked, crossing his arms as he perched on the back of the sofa, his tone laced with skepticism.

 

"What do you think Miss Sara used?" Tengshe's hand trembled slightly as he lit his cigarette, blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling.

 

"Well, since she didn't greet you with bullets, I assume she expects me to use you as a punching bag to rehab my left hand."

 

"It's actually a rather boring drug. Its name is amusing, but its effects are... annoying." Tengshe's broad frame finally collapsed to the floor. He hung his head slightly, letting out a muffled, sardonic chuckle.

 

"Hmm." Shuai Zhaomin wasn't particularly interested. He made to leave, only to freeze as Tengshe's hand clamped around his ankle. The touch was burning hot, like an iron brand against his skin.

 

Shuai Zhaomin's reaction was instant—he lifted his other leg to stomp on Tengshe's hand. But Tengshe was faster, yanking him down with enough force to topple him.

 

"An aphrodisiac." Tengshe's voice was deep, his breath scorching against Shuai Zhaomin's skin. At such close proximity, his fiery red-brown eyes burned with an unsettling intensity.

 

"Oh? So, what—you need me to soothe your delicate little chrysanthemum?" Shuai Zhaomin's tone was sharp, mocking.

 

"And whose chrysanthemum would that be?" Tengshe countered smoothly, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk.

Last Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter

 

❧ Join Bella Novels' Newsletter by clicking here ↫ and
receive an email for each New Update -͙✧˖*°࿐