Chapter 36 - Parallel Lines

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Chapter 36

 

 

How could someone laugh with such malicious glee—so irritating yet so pitiful at the same time? Shuai Zhaomin's clenched fist pounded the sofa back twice more. Tengshe, sensing danger, fell silent, but those red-brown eyes still sparkled with mischief, a glimmer of that so-called devilry.

 

Could he dig them out? Being stared at like that made Shuai Zhaomin deeply uncomfortable.

 

"Mr. Brelini, I must tell you seriously, although my love life has been quite… eventful—"

 

"Relax, I understand. No one's past is a blank slate. You've probably dumped around fifteen men. I know each one well."

 

His sentence was cut off mid-flow, words caught in his throat, leaving him in a fit of violent coughing. Damn it! What the hell does he mean by 'know each one well'?!

 

"You—cough, cough! You—you—cough—damn it!" Shuai Zhaomin grabbed Tengshe by the collar, shaking him furiously. The anger rose so fast he could barely catch his breath, a buzzing filling his head.

 

"What a concise and powerful conclusion." Tengshe let himself be shaken, deftly pulling a cigarette from his pack and holding it between his lips. "Attorney Shuai, do you need a glass of water to catch your breath?"

 

"Cough—damn you! Cough—cough—you—you damn—cough—" Only curses flowed smoothly. Damn it! Was it possible to cough so hard he couldn't breathe?

 

"I investigated you. Of course, know thyself and know thy enemy—a hundred battles, a hundred victories. Isn't that only natural?" Tengshe laughed, spreading his hands wide. The unlit cigarette somehow felt like a taunt.

 

"Water!" No, cursing while coughing lacked all intimidation. First things first—resolve the immediate problem.

 

"You're still holding onto my collar."

 

Tengshe's strong, slender fingers gently brushed over the hand clutching his collar. Shuai Zhaomin's body instantly tensed, and he leaped back two full steps.

 

With a shrug, Tengshe, ever attuned to Shuai Zhaomin's shyness, lazily lit his cigarette before strolling to the bar to pour a glass of water.

 

Shuai Zhaomin downed the water in one go, taking deep, forceful breaths. His dark eyes, sharp behind his glasses, glared at the man who remained as relaxed as ever. "You weren't just thinking 'Attorney Shuai is so shy,' were you?"

 

"You know me well." Tengshe's rogueish grin spread wide as he dodged the water glass Shuai Zhaomin hurled at him.

 

"Anyway, Mr. Brelini, we need to have a serious conversation—about your detaining me and..." His voice caught. Shuai Zhaomin shot Tengshe a glare, but under the man's smug smile, he grudgingly continued, "And about you pursuing me."

 

Damn it! He'd never heard of a pursuit where both parties would end up injured. Tengshe still had a tear on his left ear that hadn't healed, his right eye slightly swollen with a scratch near the corner. If they were actually dating, who the hell would be considered the abuser?

 

Screw that! Dating, my ass!

 

"I have no objections, only a small question." Tengshe's fingers held the cigarette with a practiced ease, the slight wave of his hand matching the rhythm of his speech—a beautiful scene, really.

 

Shuai Zhaomin didn't usually crave a smoke, but right now, he had the sudden urge to take a drag. This damn snake! His looks were nothing but a deception! What was the point of looking exactly like Shuai Zhaomin's type? Damn it! It only made his resolve waver further.

 

"Your questions are never small." Shuai Zhaomin threw a mild jab, walking around the sofa to sit on the armchair at the end of the room.

 

"Trust me, this is just a small one."

 

"Mr. Brelini, could you please get to the point? All this circling around is quite... annoying." Shuai Zhaomin adjusted his glasses, his warm, good-guy smile offset by the emphasis he placed on the last two words.

 

"It wasn't me who detained you—it was Sara."

 

Whether he was cooperating or had simply tired of the game, Tengshe's sudden compliance made Shuai Zhaomin uneasy.

 

"You're in cahoots."

 

Seeing Tengshe about to speak, Shuai Zhaomin quickly held up a hand to stop him. "Mr. Brelini, I despise conversations without logic. If you don't mind, I'd prefer to steer this discussion."

 

The words "If you don't mind" came out through gritted teeth, the underlying threat clear: If you dare object, you'll find out exactly what it means to be asking for death.

 

In yet another unexpected move, Tengshe merely shrugged, biting down on his cigarette without interrupting.

 

Damn it... Shuai Zhaomin shivered. Who exactly was this person in front of him? Shit! Shouldn't they be endlessly arguing about whether he minded or who was actually detaining him?

 

"Just who are you?" Shuai Zhaomin must have lost oxygen to his brain. Instead of feeling triumphant, he found himself worried.

 

"Tengshe Brelini." Tengshe exhaled the answer along with a puff of smoke, his lips curling into a smile.

 

Another shiver ran through him. Shuai Zhaomin decided not to overthink it. Solving the problem at hand seemed far more practical. "Alright, Mr. Tengshe. First, I've noticed something. I haven't seen Fitch these past few days."

 

"He went to find Taotie."

 

Whenever he mentioned his brothers, Tengshe always wore that infuriatingly composed expression—except now, his face contorted slightly.

 

Shuai Zhaomin skipped over it. That had nothing to do with him. "Oh, so despite the competition starting, I've been automatically excluded from it? I thought Miss Sara wanted Fitch to lose."

 

"Because Taotie called." Tengshe chuckled, his cigarette between his lips, the reddish-brown glint of his eyes brimming with a dangerous amusement. "Your dear Mr. Serg is doing quite well with Taotie. It seems the executioner is willing to break the rules. I wonder what kind of deal he struck."

 

"Mr. Brelini, are you deliberately trying to provoke me?" At the mention of Serg, Shuai Zhaomin's emotions flared. He clenched his fists tightly, restraining himself from acting out—at least not before the matter was thoroughly understood.

 

"No, I'm merely stating facts." Tengshe played innocent, tilting his head back to blow smoke at the ceiling. "In short, Taotie's message is that he accepted Mr. Serg's offer. This time, Fitch will 'in principle' win the competition."

 

Shuai Zhaomin, of course, didn't miss Tengshe's deliberate emphasis. "Sorry, what exactly does 'in principle' mean?" You could never trust anyone in this family—every word seemed laced with malice and deceit.

 

"'In principle' means..." Tengshe crushed his cigarette, picked up a bottle of liquor from the table, and swirled it. "As long as Fitch can take the weapon from Vito, he wins."

 

His tone was light, but the low chuckle at the end made it clear things were far from simple.

 

"Do you want Fitch dead?" Shuai Zhaomin didn't know why he asked this. He had always believed that Tengshe Brelini's affairs, thoughts, and emotions were none of his business. They had no need for excessive interaction.

 

It seemed Tengshe hadn't expected the question. His reddish-brown eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a cryptic smile. "That's a rather delicate question. Of course, I want him dead, but I can't let him die."

 

"Because of a promise?"

 

"Yes, because of a promise." Tengshe drank straight from the bottle, a large gulp of tequila, some trickling from the corner of his lips. Without thinking, Shuai Zhaomin leaned over and licked away the stray drops.

 

The taste was strong—definitely tequila.

 

Tengshe raised an eyebrow, simply watching him. The space between them suddenly closed, their breaths mingling with the sharp scent of alcohol. "Mr. Tengshe Brelini, your nature will get both you and others killed."

 

"What kind of nature?" Tengshe's tongue brushed his lips, the motion so close it almost grazed Shuai Zhaomin's.

 

"Being inflexible." Shuai Zhaomin sighed heavily. Whether Tengshe had intentionally licked him or not, it didn't really matter. After all, kisses had already become a staple in his daily routine—three meals a day plus midnight snacks. "I just realized something. You're someone who draws his own boundaries and then refuses to cross them."

 

"Don't you think I'm flexible?" Tengshe deliberately leaned closer. A fine mist formed on Shuai Zhaomin's glasses, and Tengshe's laughter was filled with delight.

 

Growing impatient, Shuai Zhaomin removed his glasses and adjusted his angle, tapping Tengshe's lips twice. "Why are you so fixated on me? Before me, Adams was the Brelini family's go-to partner. Even if you disliked Adams, there were plenty of other candidates. It shouldn't have come down to an Asian like me."

 

"Attorney Shuai, you finally asked the right question." Tengshe mimicked his motion, brushing Shuai Zhaomin's lips lightly with his own, his reddish-brown eyes curving with mirth. "You were the first to fall asleep."

 

"You mean during that... live sex show?" Shuai Zhaomin couldn't hide the disdain in his expression. It wasn't the show itself that had bothered him—it was the fact that it had wasted forty minutes of his time and nearly left him trapped in an elevator.

 

"Men are strangely honest in the face of desire."

 

"Your principles are always bizarre." Shuai Zhaomin clicked his tongue, reaching out to grab a handful of Tengshe's short, curly black hair, giving it a rough tousle. "Damn it! I'd love to crack your head open and see what's inside."

 

"This is how Italian men are. I only care about my family." Tengshe's broad hand pressed against Shuai Zhaomin's firm waist, applying just enough force to guide him onto his lap.

 

"What does your pursuit entail? Lust? Love?" Shuai Zhaomin had no interest in discussing family matters. He couldn't understand why Tengshe valued his family so much. From the stories he'd heard these past days, if it were him, he'd have hired a hitman to deal with those so-called family members long ago.

 

"Is there a difference?" Tengshe's hand on his waist drew him closer. Their foreheads touched, their gazes locked at the same level. "Desire leads to pursuit, affection leads to intimacy. Whether it's lust or love, does it matter?"

 

"Not really." Yet, Shuai Zhaomin couldn't shake off his annoyance over the recent fights. He couldn't immediately switch into a state of being moved by a confession. However, if it was just about physical attraction, he could respond to that.

 

"So, should we adjust this toward something more official?"

 

"No, for now, we can only move toward just having sex." Shuai Zhaomin had never intended to take relationships lightly. True, his love life was rich, but every relationship began with genuine hope for something lasting.

 

But men had their weaknesses. He bit down hard on Tengshe's bottom lip, enjoying the sensation of rough stubble brushing against his cheek. He let out a muffled chuckle.

 

"I'm not against love that starts with the body." Tengshe licked away the blood Shuai Zhaomin had drawn, his hand on Shuai Zhaomin's waist squeezing down on a spot still bruised from two days ago.

 

"Damn it!" Shuai Zhaomin howled, retaliating with a hard jab to Tengshe's injured left shoulder. The usually composed face of Tengshe twisted with pain.

 

The situation, strictly speaking, was absurd. They stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

 

"Who's on top?" If they were going to do it, there was no point in wasting time. Shuai Zhaomin had always been a man of action, already reaching for Tengshe's belt.

 

"Rock-paper-scissors? Best two out of three." Tengshe lounged lazily on the couch, looking every bit like he was enjoying being served.

 

"One round to decide." Tossing the belt aside, Shuai Zhaomin took a step back, his face alight with anticipation. "Rock, paper, scissors… Damn it!"

 

"Sorry, I win." Tengshe wiggled his hand with five fingers spread out, an apologetic grin on his face.

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