Chapter 35 - Parallel Lines

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Chapter 35

 

 

Serg's safety weighed heavily on Shuai Zhaomin's mind. He wanted nothing more than to call him, to hear his voice, but his own circumstances were anything but stable. The biggest problem, of course, was that damned snake.

 

He felt like he was on the edge of madness. Could Tengshe please stop droning on about the distant past? If he had to listen to yet another half-finished story, he was going to lose it. Complete stories he could endure—but this? This endless teasing of half-revealed truths was driving him insane.

 

His pen dug into the paper, sketching chaotic circles over and over. The lines overlapped, tangled, and swelled to fill the page, the pen tip nearly tearing through.

 

With no phone, no computer, and no way to reach the outside world, organizing the scraps of stories he had heard seemed like the only thing he could do.

 

Damn it! Was this what they meant by "the deeper you go into wealth, the deeper the abyss"? Just Tengshe's twisted lineage alone—his parents, and two generations of loyal watchdogs—could script an entire drama. He couldn't guarantee good ratings, but tragedy seemed like the only possible genre.

 

But why did he have to be included at the end of this tragedy? What did any of this have to do with him? Tengshe's parents had married without love—hardly breaking news in elite circles. Shuai Zhaomin had seen this scenario play out a hundred times over in the divorce cases he'd handled.

 

Sure, it was a little wild that both parents had been entangled with the same man. But for a seasoned lawyer like him, it wasn't exactly shocking. Now, if a same-sex couple had cheated on each other with the same opposite-sex partner, that would be enough to give him a headache.

 

As for Tengshe seducing his parents' shared lover, being entrusted to take care of his child, and eventually dragging Fitch into bed as well—well, that was just adult film material. He couldn't even muster up the effort to act surprised.

 

Irritated, he crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it at the broad back of the man lounging on the sofa, sipping tea and reading the newspaper. The paper missile struck squarely on Tengshe's short, curly black hair.

 

"Feeling a bit frustrated, Attorney Shuai?" Tengshe turned around with a serene smile, looking completely unbothered.

 

Screw you! Who the hell smiles like that when someone wants to bash their head in?

 

Shuai Zhaomin forced a tight, humorless smile, pushing his glasses up his nose as he glared at Tengshe. "Can I please borrow your phone?"

 

He'd asked for five days in a row. Applying for a bank loan wasn't this difficult. All he wanted was a phone! He'd even offered to fetch it himself—no need for it to be handed over on a silver platter. Was that not sincere enough?

 

Hell, he couldn't even step outside this room!

 

How did frogs live so happily at the bottom of wells? Circling the same cramped space every day, staring at the same night view—no matter how luxurious, after two weeks it felt cheap. He'd rather be given a single dollar. At least that had tangible value.

 

"Rest assured, Mr. Mohammed is quite safe with Taotie. He might be a bit tired, though," Tengshe offered his standard reply, his red-brown eyes never meeting Shuai Zhaomin's burning gaze, drifting instead back to the newspaper in his hands.

 

Tired? Shuai Zhaomin barely resisted the urge to flip the table. The marble table was heavy—if he failed to lift it, he'd only end up embarrassing himself. Instead, he grabbed a flower vase and hurled it.

 

Tengshe dodged effortlessly, as if he had eyes on the back of his head. He even flashed a mischievous smile. "Attorney Shuai, how about trying something more creative next time? If you keep throwing things, your hands will ache, and I'll feel sorry for you."

 

"Goddamn it!" Shuai Zhaomin cursed under his breath.

 

"Mr. Tengshe Brelini," he said, his courtroom voice smooth yet brimming with a barely-contained fury, "would you mind explaining why you refuse to lend me a phone?"

 

"You can't expect a man in pursuit of someone to willingly watch them whisper sweet nothings to someone else." Tengshe's voice was soft, like reciting poetry, the words piercing Shuai Zhaomin so sharply that he shot up from his chair.

 

"Excuse me? Did I hear that right?" His face almost twisted into a grimace. He forced himself to think back over the past few days—the endless loop of arguments, scuffles, injuries, and confessions…

 

Damn it! He had no interest in Tengshe's confessions. Wasn't there a single church in all of America where he could unload his sins?

 

He had pursued people before, but never in such a "spectacular" fashion.

 

"You mean your sweet nothings with Mr. Mohammed?" Tengshe's red-brown eyes peeked out from under thick, curling lashes. That one glance sent an involuntary shiver down Shuai Zhaomin's spine.

 

"Why the hell would I whisper sweet nothings to Serg?" His hand touched his lips instinctively. Serg had kissed him once, but the memory had long faded. Through his glasses, his gaze fell to Tengshe's full lips.

 

That infuriating mouth kissed him far too often—breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks in between… Damn it! Were they not kissing too much? If he had that much free time, why not go bite Fitch instead?

 

"I wouldn't know. The sweetest thing you've ever said to me was, 'I'll kill you, you bastard.' Such a pity..."

 

Pity, my ass!

 

He swung his hand sharply, signaling Tengshe to shut up. He didn't want to hear any more of this indecent nonsense. They hadn't even slept together, and yet he knew all of Tengshe's sensitive spots and sexual history.

 

Damn it! He had been forced to endure at least a dozen explicit recountings of Tengshe's sexual escapades. How could anyone have skin this thick? Calling him shameless would be a compliment!

 

"Cut the crap. What did you say right before the 'sweet nothings' part?"

 

"I said, I'm pursuing you." The words were as casual as if he were announcing, "Old Wang next door is chasing after Xiao Hua across the street, haha."*

 

[T/N: The "Old Wang and Little Hua" part is a reference to a common Chinese storytelling trope where two random, generic names—like 老王 (Old Wang) and 小华 (Little Hua)—are used to illustrate a casual, everyday scenario, often with a humorous or ironic twist.]

 

"Who's pursuing who?" Shuai Zhaomin admitted he was stunned. Damn it, he was embarrassingly knocked off balance by a single line, his brain nearly shutting down.

 

"Me." Tengshe waved his hand playfully, a picture of good cheer.

 

"Pursuing whom?" He rubbed his throbbing temples, desperately hoping for a different answer.

 

"You." Yeah, right. As if this was any kind of normal pursuit!

 

"Mr. Brelini, I'm not interested in S&M." In the past few days, they'd fought at least every other hour. His waist still bore the bruises from last night's scratches, and Tengshe's neck had a very clear bite mark.

 

Judging by their battle record, they were even—four wins, four losses, and two draws. If this were just about finding a sparring partner, it would've made more sense.

 

"Neither am I." Tengshe chuckled softly, his gaze downcast. He folded his newspaper with elegance, though deliberately in a way that was infuriating. "So Attorney Shuai never felt my sincerity?"

 

"I'm sorry, but I fail to see how our recent brawls have anything to do with your 'pursuit'."

 

"That's called… foreplay." Tengshe set the newspaper on the coffee table, stood up, and stretched. His movements, even under a simple knit sweater, showcased strength and beauty.

 

Damn it! Why did this snake have to have such a perfect body? Recently, their kisses had grown longer, and part of the blame lay in his infatuation with that physique.

 

He could entirely understand why an artist might fall in love with their sculpture. If only Tengshe weren't so unbearably obnoxious… Damn it! Was he turning into some kind of twisted art connoisseur?

 

"Forgive me. I'm too dull to understand this so-called foreplay."

 

Whether pursuing or being pursued, Shuai Zhaomin had plenty of experience. In those situations, who wasn't gentle, attentive, and eager to show their best side?

 

Tengshe didn't show a single redeeming quality—just endless tales of domestic drama.

 

"Isn't love built on honesty?"

 

Sure, but only if the love had actually started or if they were just a step away from it! Right now, they hadn't even seen the doorstep—what the hell was there to be honest about?

 

"Mr. Brelini, to be frank, I'm not interested in your family affairs."

 

This felt like he'd just gone on a blind date, was about to call and turn them down, but the matchmaker had already shown up at his door with a betrothal gift.

 

Pursuit—did simply saying the word make it true? A one-sided pursuit was a guaranteed train wreck.

 

Shuai Zhaomin knew he wasn't a saint, nor was he a lovesick teenager. He'd absolutely take joy in giving a little push, sending this whole disaster tumbling into the abyss where it would never climb out.

 

"I thought that was a kiss of commitment." Tengshe blinked, utterly at ease, even deliberately licking his lips.

 

Which kiss? Shuai Zhaomin wasn't foolish enough to ask aloud. He knew Tengshe was talking about five days ago—the mistake he'd made in bed.

 

Admittedly, the kiss had tasted good. The wine flavor had been a bit strong, but mixed into the kiss, it had left a dizzying, almost tipsy sensation.

 

"That was a mistake. What man hasn't made a little mistake in matters of the heart?" His words were shameless, but Shuai Zhaomin had a talent for appearing righteous even when being utterly brazen.

 

Thicken your skin, and nothing in the world can touch you. Sure, Tengshe might have thrown him off a bit, but that didn't matter. A lot of things could be fixed.

 

"Like a forced kiss, for example?" Tengshe's expression turned to feigned curiosity, his red-brown eyes playing at innocence... Damn! The kind of innocence tainted with mischief—he'd never seen anything like it!

 

"That wasn't a forced kiss," Shuai Zhaomin shot back firmly. "Just like how, under mutual consent, you can't call it rape."

 

"Mutual consent, huh?" Tengshe's smirk was infuriating—like a devil who had just tricked Eve into biting the apple.

 

"People are bound to make impulsive mistakes. What matters is that we correct them." Endure the small loss to win the bigger game—no way was he letting Tengshe take control of the conversation again! His fist clenched tightly by his side. Lately, he'd memorized the names of Brelini's ancestors better than his own family tree.

 

"Making our relationship official is also a form of correction. Personally, I prefer that option."

 

"Rejected." Official, my ass!

 

"So what you're saying is… I need to keep working hard to pursue you?" Tengshe nodded with a face full of understanding. Shuai Zhaomin forced a stiff curl to his lips, stepping closer until only the sofa back separated them.

 

"Wrong! I reject your pursuit." His fist crashed into the sofa, but Tengshe didn't even blink.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because it's not fun."

 

Tengshe let out a laugh, bold and unrestrained.

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