Chapter 46 - Parallel Lines

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Chapter 46

 

 

The past is the past. Unless it becomes a habit, it neither affects the present nor harms the future.

 

Taotie had always believed this.

 

He knew that despite Migu's carelessness, her clumsiness, and her knack for injuring both herself and others, her memory was astoundingly accurate. She truly possessed a photographic memory—able to remember for a lifetime after a single glance, recounting precise times and places as if flipping through a calendar.

 

But why, then, couldn't she remember directions? How could she even forget the address of her own home? Taotie had always considered this a mystery.

 

If she insisted that Serg and he had met as children, then it must have been true. But a memory long gone held no sway over their present relationship or decisions.

 

At most, it only proved that Serg had always given him a sense of some "delicacy"—whether through his cooking or simply by being himself.

 

Taotie's chin rested naturally on Serg's shoulder, nestled against the graceful curve of his neck. The familiar scent of food mingled with a subtle, sweet fragrance unique to Serg.

 

"Master! Can't you use your brain? If Mr. Serg really is a prince, then all the more reason not to involve him! What if something happens?" Celine's anger had not subsided; instead, her voice rose even louder. Migu blinked innocently, her lips curling into a pout.

 

"Taotie can protect him…" What should have been a confident statement ended up as a mumble, Migu's small shoulders slumping as she adjusted her glasses and looked to Peter. "Isn't that right?"

 

No matter what, finding an ally was a priority!

 

"That would depend on Young Master Taotie and Prince Serg's wishes." Peter's gentle, smiling gaze rested on his master. His response was impeccably polite, skillfully deflecting the question.

 

Migu's lips moved as if to speak, but only a small whimper escaped. She shrank into herself, crouching on the ground with her head bowed, sulking.

 

"Miss Celine, simply helping to find someone won't cause too much trouble. I have my reasons for doing this." Serg's voice was soft and soothing. He truly appreciated Celine's kindness, but once he decided on something, he would see it through.

 

Taotie made a barely perceptible sound of agreement, his large hand combing through Serg's hair. The arm that had been around Serg's waist shifted, fingers entwining with his, tracing the shape of each finger before their hands clasped, Taotie's middle finger gently tickling Serg's hand.

 

The natural intimacy of his gestures left Serg with no room to refuse, allowing Taotie to steadily push his boundaries, unabashedly displaying his affection in front of everyone.

 

"What reason? Mr. Serg, you must understand something—I'm doing this for your own good. Young Master Qingji is the family's most capable hunter. Frankly speaking, even with Peter and Vito combined, we could barely match him. We can't protect you." Despite knowing Serg's identity, Celine's attitude remained firm. Her long, elegant fingers jabbed accusingly at Serg's nose.

 

"Celine." Peter raised an eyebrow slightly, a sigh on his lips as he softly called her name. Celine flinched, quickly withdrawing her hand, though her large eyes continued to glare at Serg.

 

"Prince Serg, how much time will you need?" Peter nodded to Celine, then offered Serg a polite smile, his perfect tone barely concealing a trace of mockery.

 

The world of the mafia was a tangled web of power and bloodlines. Instinctively, Serg cast his gaze downward, taking in the fiery red hair resting on his shoulder. Taotie's hair, like burning flames, radiated anything but warmth.

 

He often saw Taotie from this angle. Whenever they were in the glass workshop, Taotie's hair was carelessly tied back, messy and unkempt, partially obscuring his gray eyes. Yet his high-bridged nose and slightly upturned lips remained prominent.

 

A low, rumbling purr escaped Taotie, like a well-fed beast basking in the sun, utterly content.

 

"Do you want me to find Qingji?" Now that he was considered one of Taotie's people, it only made sense to ask for his opinion first. Still, when it came to that previous question, Serg found it difficult to maintain his composure.

 

Were they lovers? Their relationship seemed more transactional, yet there was something more—an odd balance where Taotie boldly drew closer, while Serg instinctively retreated.

 

Though, more often than not, he couldn't escape in time.

 

"Hmm… I can't protect you from Qingji, but do you need my protection?" Taotie moved slightly, lifting his hollow gray eyes to meet Serg's, catching his gaze before he could avert it.

 

Heat rushed to Serg's cheeks. He bit his bottom lip, unable to break away from those eyes.

 

"Please provide me with a photo, a computer, and a scanner. The computer must have internet access. Also, give me four hours." Avoiding the question was the best course for now—perhaps answering it in private would be easier.

 

"Yes!" Vito responded cheerfully, his lithe figure almost dancing away. His bright mood was evident in his every move.

 

"This little brat." Taotie murmured, rubbing his face against Serg's neck.

 

"Yeah, a little brat." Serg couldn't help but chuckle, his fingers entwining with Taotie's rough, warm hand, his response layered with meaning.

 

***

 

Finding someone wasn't difficult. Running a coffee shop in America purely out of passion, serving only regulars, was far from an easy life. Since leaving home and giving up his inheritance, Serg had not touched any of his family's resources.

 

While cutting expenses, he had to face the harsh reality of finding an income. To support his interests, he needed a strong backing... To be honest, his side job was a bit on the illegal side, which was why he never wanted Shuai Zhaomin to find out.

 

To put it simply, his side hustle was hacking. Most of his clients were government agencies. Though he wasn't stealing national secrets, the data he accessed was often startling.

 

Taotie had family photos. When Vito returned with three hefty photo albums, a laptop, and a scanner, Migu let out a small cheer, excitedly running over to grab the albums—only to trip and crash heavily to the ground. Naturally, she also took Celine down with her, and the two tumbled together amidst startled cries and frustrated shouts.

 

Peter remained unfazed as he watched them roll on the floor. Only when they stopped did he approach with a gentle smile. "Master, if it's a sand bath you want, I would recommend the beaches of the Côte d'Azur."

 

With perfect poise, he scooped them up. Migu hung her head, not daring to make a sound, while Celine sprang to her feet and smacked the younger girl's head without hesitation.

 

"I'm the master!"

 

"You're a walking disaster! Take your troubles to Qingji, not me!" Celine's beautiful eyes narrowed in irritation as she rubbed her aching head.

 

"Peter, I'm the master..." Migu's glasses slipped to the tip of her nose, her doe-like eyes brimming with innocent misery.

 

"Of course, you are the master." Peter remained graceful, straightening Migu's glasses, smoothing her clothes, and quickly tying her tousled hair into two bunny-ear-like tufts. His gentle smile never wavered. "But you are still a disaster. Please ensure your misfortune is directed appropriately."

 

The seemingly light pat on the shoulder made Migu whimper twice, and she was gently but firmly pressed back into her chair.

 

The scanner was set up quickly, and the computer was connected to the internet, yet the crucial photos remained out of Serg's reach. Despite the three thick albums... No, it was precisely because of the three thick albums that the photos were hard to find.

 

Unable to endure his hunger, Taotie had already given up, digging cookies straight out of the oven and cradling an entire basket to munch on. Naturally, he made sure everyone got a fair share, with absolute equality.

 

Vito also brought out whatever ready-to-eat food he could find in the fridge—black olives, goat cheese, lettuce, cucumbers, and even the two cheesecakes Serg had baked yesterday.

 

It felt like a picnic... Serg blinked in surprise at the five of them, master and servants alike, naturally seating themselves around the table with him at the center. They chewed on food and flipped through photo albums, Italian words filling the air.

 

"Mr. Serg, these are the master's favorite three albums. He takes them everywhere." Vito, lips still glistening with olive oil, gleefully pulled out two photos and handed them to Serg. "This is the master with Miss Migu and Mr. Tengshe. I wasn't a 'watch-dog' back then."

 

In the photo, Taotie stared blankly at the camera, his gray eyes under the sunlight like translucent crystals. He looked to be only about ten years old. Migu wore a sweet, mischievous smile, her raised hand clearly having smacked little Tengshe just before the shutter clicked. The three- or four-year-old Tengshe rubbed his cheek, his expression more resigned than pained.

 

"Qingji was so, so adorable when he was little! Taotie once gnawed on him for three days straight until he cried." Migu stroked a particular photo with a nostalgic, wicked grin. "If he hates you, it must be because you bit him."

 

"That wasn't biting; it was taste-testing." Taotie's calm rebuttal came as his gray eyes drifted from the photo to Serg. After finishing his cookie, Taotie instinctively licked his lips.

 

Serg drew a sharp breath, an unexplainable heat spreading through him.

 

"Um, about Young Master Qingji's photo..." He still needed to prepare dinner, and with three extra mouths to feed, it would take more time. He didn't want to catch Taotie crouched in front of the fridge, nibbling on raw vegetables straight from the crisper.

 

"Of course. Here, this was taken last summer." Vito pulled out another photograph, leaning closer as he handed it over. "Mr. Serg, you don't need to rush. Even if there's no dinner, the master won't let himself go hungry."

 

"Mm, I understand." Serg gave a small, bitter smile. Why did he feel like Vito's words held a deeper meaning? That lively face was full of mischievous delight, making Serg awkwardly swallow his nerves.

 

The photograph showed a man's upper body, clad in a steel-gray suit. His shirt and tie were tastefully coordinated, exuding an effortless sense of style. His expression was somewhat indifferent, casting a cold glance at the camera.

 

The Brelini family was blessed with remarkable looks and an exotic allure. Qingji's features closely mirrored Serg's—deep black eyes, long lashes, and neatly styled dark brown hair, blending a Latin charm with a hint of Arabic elegance.

 

Serg found himself lingering on the slight, enigmatic curve of Qingji's lips, an expression that bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

 

"Qingji is a weapon."

 

Taotie's breath brushed against his cheek. Serg shivered violently, his face flushing as he darted a quick, embarrassed glance at the gray eyes so close to him.

 

Migu, Celine, and Vito were still chattering away as they flipped through the photos, seemingly oblivious to how Taotie had nearly pressed himself against Serg. Though their bodies didn't quite touch, Serg felt as if he were being subtly teased.

 

"A weapon?" He cleared his throat, the sound dry and uneasy, as he hurriedly scanned the photo into the computer.

 

"Mhm. Destruction and death." Taotie's gray eyes drifted again, and Serg thought he heard a soft sigh escape him.

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