Chapter 47 - Parallel Lines

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Chapter 47

 

 

"I'm heading to the United States."

 

The boy sitting nearby looked at him with a hint of boredom. That boy had just turned eighteen two days ago, and the gift originally planned for him had been delayed due to a sudden task assigned by his grandfather. Naturally, he was not pleased.

 

"I know." Exhaling softly, he turned off the blowtorch. As the glass cooled, he looked up to meet the boy's gaze.

 

The boy's reddish-brown eyes were exactly like their grandfather's, yet the spirit within them was entirely different. There was a bit of willfulness, a trace of coldness, a mixture of curiosity and malice—but beneath it all lay a hidden innocence.

 

Yes, his young cousin was indeed innocent. Despite appearing clever and sly, as vicious and dangerous as a snake, at his core, he remained a genuinely sweet and naïve child.

 

"Take Fitch with you." The boy's full, soft lips curled into a mischievous smile. His beautiful, unblemished fingers reached toward the still-warm glass, but he swiftly caught that slender wrist, his brows knitting slightly.

 

"You've lost weight again. Kids should stay chubby—it makes them tastier." He gently squeezed the delicate wrist, feeling the silky coolness of the boy's fine skin and the sharp prominence of his bones.

 

"I haven't been a kid for years." Sticking out his tongue playfully, the boy made a funny face, tugging his hand away, and he let go accordingly.

 

True, his cousin was already eighteen... So why did he still feel like he was only eight? When he was younger, the boy seemed mature beyond his years. Now, paradoxically, he felt childish. Was it because he had grown too tall, or had his personality simply forgotten to mature?

 

Taotie narrowed his gray eyes, his lips moving slightly as he held back the words he wanted to say. He already knew how the boy would respond to his questions. Once a decision was made, it shouldn't be changed lightly. If change was desired, then the decision shouldn't have been made so quickly in the first place.

 

The boy's red-brown eyes curved into a smile as he looked at him. Taotie knew the boy was searching for a lifeline, hoping he might save him. But he also understood he could never be that lifeline. So, he chose to remain silent, bowing his head to continue crafting the gift he intended to give.

 

"Taotie, what is this?" It was hard to say whether he was rational or simply cold. The boy didn't mind—their relationship had always been this way, ever since they were children.

 

In the flames, the glass tube melted into a malleable, ointment-like state. Under Taotie's strong, deft fingers, it slowly transformed into a serpent with wings, its membranous bat-like wings layered with four or five shades, giving the snake's body a lifelike, sinuous motion in the play of light.

 

"A Tengshe*." The boy chuckled, leaning in closer, only to be gently pushed back. "Taotie, I'm not a child anymore."

 

[T/N: Tengshe, also known as the Soaring Serpent, is a mythical flying serpent in Han Chinese folklore. Numerous references to it can be found in ancient Chinese texts, where it is regarded as a sacred beast with various symbolic meanings.]

 

"I know." Shutting off the torch, Taotie set the finished glass snake on a pad to cool before finally meeting the boy's gaze. "I don't think this question matters, but I still want to ask."

 

"Your questions are always hard to answer. Can I refuse to listen?" The boy arched a pretty brow, a look that reminded Taotie of his late Uncle Alexander.

 

"Why did Grandfather agree?"

 

The boy's brow rose higher, his plump lips twisting into a smile that made Taotie uncomfortable.

 

"Taotie, do you think I'm like my father? Recently, when I look in the mirror, I can't quite tell which parts are my father's and which are my mother's." The boy never answered questions directly, but Taotie was used to it.

 

There was nothing wrong with following the boy's pace—in fact, it was easier. Forcing him to follow his own rhythm would only lead to frustration and rarely yielded the answers he sought.

 

Taotie's gray eyes focused intently on that familiar face: the honey-gold skin, the red-brown eyes, the slightly delicate yet sharp nose, and the full lips that appeared so soft.

 

His features seemed to be an even blend of his parents: eye shape and face structure resembling his father, while his hair color and the contours of his mouth and nose took after his mother. Yet, the overall combination leaned more towards his paternal side.

 

The boy had truly grown up—Taotie felt a pang of sentimentality. When he was still just a boy, he had a delicate and almost androgynous beauty. Now, that clarity and fragility had faded from his features, replaced by a relaxed yet formidable aura.

 

"You look like Grandfather." After thoughtful consideration, Taotie replied calmly.

 

His response caused the boy's expression to darken slightly, a cold laugh escaping his nose. "Taotie, your honesty is annoyingly refreshing. Asking you this question was my mistake."

 

"Is that so?" Taotie tapped his knee, watching as the boy bit his lip hard. Without hesitation, he reached out to ease the pressure of the boy's clenching teeth.

 

The boy chuckled again, wickedly darting his tongue out to lick his finger. Taotie looked indifferently at the wet trace left behind, then pulled his hand back and licked the same spot himself.

 

The boy blinked, stunned for a couple of seconds, a slight flush coloring his cheeks as he revealed a look of reluctant defiance.

 

"What were Grandfather's conditions?" Taotie had always been indifferent, never pressing for answers—except when it came to food. When he asked questions, he never truly needed an answer.

 

After all, once the question left his lips, it was as if his curiosity was already satisfied. Whether or not he received a response, the burden of decision lay solely with the one being questioned.

 

"I thought you'd already guessed." The boy clicked his tongue in mild irritation, pointing at the glass snake. "Can I touch it now?"

 

"Yes." Taotie nodded, lifting the snake and taking the boy's hand, placing the Tengshe gently into his soft palm. "I was thinking of turning it into a tie clip. Grandfather gave you an entire suit, didn't he?"

 

"Mm..." The boy tilted his head carelessly, a satisfied smile on his lips as he examined the intricate glass Tengshe. "He said it's time I start looking like a real mafioso."

 

"Like Qingji?"

 

"Like Qingji," the boy snorted with a chuckle.

 

"Would a tie clip be all right?" Taotie could tell the boy really liked the gift, but he seemed reluctant to accept it as a tie clip.

 

Turning it into a ring would make it too large, and as earrings, it might not suit the boy's style—plus, glass was fragile. Perhaps he should just make it a decorative piece instead.

 

"No problem. It's not like I could wear it outside anyway." The boy toyed with the glass Tengshe, which still held a faint warmth. His casual tone held a trace of concealed menace.

 

"Do you expect enemies in New York?" Taotie's strong fingers tapped the workbench. His gray eyes drifted to the ceiling, wandering aimlessly. This was his habit when deep in thought—finding solace in the mundane.

 

"The Canister family. They had a dispute with the Chulun family over the cocaine trade recently." Whenever the boy talked about the family business, he always did so with a smile, laced with mockery and a deep-seated malice.

 

"So, it's the Chulun family." That explained why his last mission's target had been someone from the Canister family. Their strength was decent—enough to delay him from completing the gift on time.

 

"I heard your cute little dog got hurt. Was the target a full team?" The boy giggled, and when he said "dog," his melodious voice seemed to hitch ever so slightly.

 

"No, only four people. Vito got injured because he's been slacking off on training. It might also have something to do with the conflict he had with Qingji the day before." Taotie's calm analysis drew a bored click of the tongue from the boy.

 

"Hmph, Qingji." The boy's expression turned petulant. After spinning the glass Tengshe once in his palm, he set it back on the workbench. "A tie clip will do. I'll wear it before I turn twenty."

 

"For what reason?"

 

"For Grandpa, of course." The boy's lips curved into a saccharine smile.

 

"When will you come back?" Taotie ruffled the boy's slightly curled black hair, only to have him pull away in irritation.

 

"Maybe it won't be me coming back. Maybe you'll all come to America." The boy's striking features and that enigmatic, malevolent smile exuded a captivating allure—one that was unmistakably sexual.

 

Too bad they were brothers... Occasionally, Taotie couldn't help but think this.

 

"I don't want to leave Italy." He'd heard American desserts were terrible, and he had no desire to go to a dessert wasteland.

 

"For Rosalind?" The boy blinked and burst into laughter when Taotie nodded without hesitation. "Taotie, you truly live up to your name."

 

"My name?" Taotie knew his name came from a Chinese mythical beast. Its pronunciation was unique, and the boy had once shown him how it was written—those characters were like a drawing.

 

"A fierce, gluttonous beast."

 

"I only enjoy good food." He didn't consider himself a glutton. To be called that, you'd have to be like Vito, who often quarreled with him over an extra slice of cake.

 

"Taotie, it's never just 'only' or 'enjoy.'" The boy's reddish-brown eyes curved in an endearing arc, looking exactly like the little boy in Taotie's memories.

 

"I hope you come back." Unable to resist, Taotie pinched the boy's cheek. The touch lacked the fluffy softness it had when he was little—a bit of a shame.

 

"Taotie, let's make a bet." This time, the young man didn't dodge. The smile in his eyes had a sharp, predatory gleam.

 

"What kind of bet?"

 

"I won't return to Italy, and you'll come to America because of me."

 

"What's at stake?" He neither agreed nor disagreed. He knew this young man well—he never said anything he wasn't confident about, never did anything without assurance, and never placed a bet he couldn't win.

 

"A promise. If I win, you must protect me. If you win, I'll risk my life for you."

 

"For what reason?" He could never be a lifeline. No matter how much the young man struggled or cried out, he couldn't save him.

 

The young man only smiled and extended his hand.

 

Looking at that elegant, flawless hand, Taotie's gray eyes drifted slowly between the young man's face and his outstretched palm, showing no reaction for a long time.

 

For what reason? He tapped the workbench, and only after a long silence did he slowly shake his head. "Tengshe, I can't promise that if Qingji wants you dead, I'll be able to help you."

 

"Why mention Qingji?" The young man didn't seem surprised—in fact, he wore a look of "I knew it."

 

"I know the secret between you and Grandpa. One day, the six of us will clash over our respective stances." He did like his cousins, but when the time came, he would never hesitate.

 

It was a harsh truth: when you wanted to live, the only option was to render the other side harmless. Survival of the fittest—for them, this was the absolute truth.

 

"What a pity." The young man's expression, however, held not a shred of regret.

 

Jumping up from his chair, the young man waved a hand. "Please have the gift delivered to me. I'm leaving Italy on the fourth of next month. Will you see me off?"

 

"I will."

 

The young man flashed a radiant smile and walked away without looking back.

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