After My Cheap Husband Faked His Death, I Ended Up Happily Ever After with His Younger Brother - Chapter 14

Pei Jiheng nodded slightly, his face maintaining its usual gentle smile.

The bald man, Zhao Yu, one of the owners of Guanlan, bowed and scraped, personally leading Pei Jiheng and his companion into the innermost room.

The room was large and exquisitely decorated. In the center sat a red mahogany tea table with tea sets already prepared, wisps of steam rising from them.

Zhao Yu busied himself brewing a cup of tea for Pei Jiheng, handing it over with both hands.

Pei Jiheng took it but did not drink immediately. He sat steadily on the sofa, crossed his legs, placed one hand on the armrest, and held the teacup in the other, looking at Zhao Yu with interest.

Zhao Yu stood to the side, bent over, smiling even more obsequiously.

“Second Young Master Pei, regarding the acquisition of Guanlan, we have a few small requests.”

Pei Jiheng smiled, pushing his glasses up slightly. “Please speak, Boss Zhao.”

Zhao Yu rubbed his fingers together. That gesture revealed his mercenary shrewdness. He cleared his throat and tentatively began: “We feel that if you add another percentage point, we can sign the contract tonight.”

Pei Jiheng did not speak.

He looked down at the teacup in his hand; the tea was clear, and the leaves were unfurling at the bottom of the cup. The room remained silent for several seconds.

Zhao Yu’s smile began to falter, and the corners of his mouth twitched. Just as he was about to say something to ease the tension, Pei Jiheng lifted his chin and signaled the woman beside him.

Iris let go of Pei Jiheng’s arm and stood up.

Her heels made no sound on the carpet. She circled the tea table and approached Zhao Yu. A slender, fair hand rested on his shoulder as she leaned in, her breath brushing against his earlobe.

“Boss Zhao,” Iris’s voice was cloyingly sweet, yet every word carried a chill, “our Young Master is sincerely trying to do business with you. Asking for more money again and again is a bit excessive, is it not?”

Zhao Yu laughed awkwardly, his neck shrinking instinctively as a layer of cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Second Young Master Pei, this is truly the result of our careful deliberation,” he said, his tone bordering on pleading. “Guanlan has been operating for over ten years. Its value is significant. We would certainly never take advantage of you, would we?”

Pei Jiheng lowered his head to blow on the steam, then took a generous sip of the tea.

The tea was excellent: Longjing tea harvested before the rains, with a long-lasting, subtle fragrance.

He set the cup down, the base clicking against the mahogany table with a soft sound.

“Oh?”

Pei Jiheng looked up. The smile remained on his lips, but the eyes behind his lenses had changed. “Then can you also gloss over the times Guanlan poached my resources and blocked my access?”

Zhao Yu’s smile froze completely.

Sweat trickled down from his temples. He opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but his throat felt as if someone were gripping it, rendering him unable to utter a single word.

Pei Jiheng tilted his head and took off his glasses, tossing them casually onto the tea table.

Without the lenses to shield them, his brow and eyes were fully exposed to the light, deep and cold.

He looked at Zhao Yu again, chin lifted.

That gaze was like a different person entirely.

There was no longer a trace of gentleness; it was condescending and composed, like a predator looking at its prey.

Zhao Yu’s legs began to go weak.

The next second, Iris’s hand slipped from Zhao Yu’s shoulder down to her skirt, pulling out a pistol.

The muzzle pressed against the back of Zhao Yu’s head. The cold metallic touch seeped through his scalp and spread throughout his body. Zhao Yu stiffened; the color drained completely from his face, and his lips began to tremble.

“Boss Zhao.”

Pei Jiheng pulled at his tie, loosening his collar, his tone casual.

“Shall we talk about something else in more depth?”

Pei Jiheng leaned back, his entire posture exuding a careless relaxation. He even had the leisure to pick up his teacup and take another sip.

With the muzzle pressed against the back of his head, the sweat on Zhao Yu’s forehead dripped down to his chin, hitting the mahogany table drop by drop.

“Second Young Master Pei,” his voice was trembling uncontrollably, “let us talk this over, let us talk.”

“Naturally, we will. Now,” Pei Jiheng set the cup down and folded his hands on his lap, “I ask, you answer.”

Zhao Yu nodded frantically.

“The racetrack I opened in Bin City two years ago had some trouble recently. Care to guess who did it? Who is behind it?”

Zhao Yu paused, his eyes darting around as his lips moved.

Pei Jiheng did not rush him; he simply watched.

“I was wrong, Second Young Master Pei! It was me, but no one made me do it,” Zhao Yu’s voice seemed squeezed from his throat. “Second Young Master Pei, it was me. I just felt that having the racetrack in Bin City was stealing Guanlan’s business, so I thought I would cause some trouble.”

“Cause some trouble.” Pei Jiheng repeated the phrase, his lips curling slightly. “Causing trouble for me. Boss Zhao certainly has a grand flair.”

Zhao Yu’s legs shook so hard that his pant legs trembled.

“No, no,” he shook his head incoherently. “Second Young Master Pei, I was truly blinded by greed. I just thought that since your base is in Hong Kong, your reach here in Bin City would not be that long, so I did it.”

Pei Jiheng stared at him for several seconds.

His gaze scanned Zhao Yu’s face inch by inch: the dilation of his pupils, the curve of his lips, the frequency of his Adam’s apple moving, and the extent of his shoulders trembling.

After one look, Pei Jiheng knew: this man was not lying.

He had not been instigated by anyone else.

Zhao Yu was merely a greedy, short-sighted businessman who thought he was clever.

He thought that since Pei Jiheng’s people were in Hong Kong, his hand could not reach into Bin City. He thought Guanlan’s foundation of over ten years was solid enough, and he thought that causing a little trouble would not be discovered, or if it were, no one would do anything to him.

Pei Jiheng lowered his eyes and tapped his fingers lightly on his knee twice.

It was not his older brother’s doing.

Pei Yanjun was far away abroad. If his hand had truly reached into Bin City, he would never have used a pawn like Zhao Yu. If Pei Yanjun were to strike, it would be a lethal blow; he would not send a small-timer to test his bottom line.

The tension in Pei Jiheng’s heart eased slightly, though he did not show it on his face.

He leaned back, lifted his chin, and signaled Iris.

Iris put the gun away.

The moment the muzzle left the back of his head, Zhao Yu’s bones seemed to melt. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. The back of his shirt was soaked, clinging to his skin.

“Boss Zhao.” Pei Jiheng’s voice regained its gentleness, even carrying a hint of a smile.

Zhao Yu looked up, his face a mess of tears and snot, utterly pathetic.

“The acquisition will be signed at the original price. As for the matter of the racetrack…”

Zhao Yu shuddered violently.

Pei Jiheng glanced at him, saying nothing more. He picked up his glasses from the table and put them back on, the mask of gentle indifference clicking back into place.

“Sign.”

With trembling hands, Zhao Yu reached for the contract, flipped to the last page, and signed his name. The tip of his pen poked a hole through the paper and skidded across the table.

Pei Jiheng took the contract, flipped through it, confirmed it was correct, and stood up. Iris was already at his side, taking his arm once more, a soft, alluring smile returning to her face.

The two walked out of the room one after the other. Zhao Yu lay slumped in his chair, lacking even the strength to see them off.