I Want To Marry My dad, Not My Uncle - Chapter 9

This commercial street featured every brand imaginable, mostly high-end luxury labels. The handkerchief Xingchen had used previously was bought right here. Xingchen naturally linked his arm through Vincent’s, talking about which brands his mother used to like. Vincent took him to every store he showed interest in.

Xingchen was tall and slender, a human clothes hanger who looked good in anything. Especially when he was alone in the dressing room, his innocent, sweet smile would vanish. His dead-eyed gaze and superior facial features revealed a cold, world-weary aura. Vincent sat in the VIP lounge, sipping coffee and occasionally catching glimpses of Xingchen’s slim, fair waist and straight, slender legs through the reflection of the mirrors. The sales assistant, well aware of who was paying the bill, kept a close eye on Vincent’s reactions.

Xingchen had no complaints; he wore whatever he was given. The style of his clothing gradually shifted toward cold black and gray tones. As long as Xingchen did not smile too sweetly, he looked exactly like a cold, calculating CEO worth millions. Does Vincent like this type? Fortunately, he could pull it off.

Throughout the day, Vincent took him to visit all the top-tier luxury brands, paying with remarkable ease. Xingchen had a fruitful haul. After dinner that night, Vincent dropped him off at his apartment building.

“When are you moving?”

“Huh?” Xingchen feigned ignorance. “Moving where?” Then, as if suddenly realizing, he said, “Oh, my neighbor, the older lady, is very good to me. She is getting on in years and has trouble getting around, so I help her with things occasionally. I want to wait until I start school.”

Vincent did not respond. He got out of the car and handed him the bags from the trunk. The luxurious shopping bags had been tucked into an inconspicuous woven sack; Xingchen had been wondering how to carry those flashy designer bags.

“Thank you, sir.”

Vincent stroked the red mole at the corner of his eye. “Go on, I will watch you go up.”

Xingchen gave a sweet smile and ran upstairs, the warm sensation of Vincent’s touch seemingly lingering on his skin. In the dim hallway, the neighbor, the lady with pink hair who supposedly had trouble getting around, was seeing a white man out and winked at Xingchen. Xingchen smiled politely and dragged his bags into his room.

Once inside, he dumped the contents of the bags, unpacked them, photographed each item, and sent the images to Jizuo.

Xingchen: “Three Hermès, two Goyard, four other luxury brands. If we sell them all, it is probably around forty thousand.”

He listed everything, and Jizuo kept track. He had chosen brands that held their value and were easy to liquidate; he had not even bothered to look at brands that did not. He had wanted a Birkin or a Kelly bag, but he had no excuse for a man to be carrying a woman’s handbag.

Jizuo: “Which ones need to be replaced with high-quality fakes?”

Xingchen kept the Italian coat and selected a few other styles that Vincent liked. “These need to be swapped for high-quality fakes.”

Jizuo: “What standard of high-quality?”

Xingchen: “Chinese standard.”

Jizuo tutted: “Looks like this sucker is a high-end customer.”

Xingchen took off his wig and walked to the window. His breath misted the glass, leaving a layer of frost. “He is certainly high-end.”

“Three days, fifty thousand left. Keep at it.”

After hanging up, Xingchen fell onto his bed without taking off his shoes. His eyes were incredibly dry. He removed his colored contact lenses, used two drops of eye drops, and closed his eyes to focus. Things were moving too fast. Vincent had spent over a hundred thousand on him in just a few days; under any normal circumstance, this would be the buffer zone. But fifty thousand in three days? The challenge was too great. To get a large sum in a short time, he had to take drastic measures.

That means…

The next day, Xingchen got up two hours early. He used semi-permanent hair dye to turn his real hair a black-brown color that was nearly black. This type of dye would wash out in a couple of weeks if not touched up. He was skilled and practiced; dividing, applying, rinsing, and trimming took exactly two hours. It looked identical to his usual wig. He did not know what might happen today, and a wig was a bit of a liability.

After applying his makeup, Xingchen went to work. The employee in the next section had asked for the day off, and Xingchen and Annie were incredibly busy. Xingchen did not pay much attention to Vincent, and by the time he realized Vincent had arrived, the order had already been placed. The handsy Raymond had arrived too, but Xingchen did not give Annie a chance to be put in a difficult spot; he walked over directly.

Raymond’s eyes never left his face. “Baby, I will listen to you. Whatever you say, I will do.”

Instead of looking disgusted, Xingchen smiled brilliantly. “Really? My tastes are quite unique.”

Raymond had originally only been teasing. He thought Xingchen would politely refuse, especially since Xingchen had returned all his gifts last time, making it clear there was no chance. But this time, Xingchen’s demeanor clearly showed an opening.

“Baby, have you changed your mind?” Raymond asked with a playful smile. “Waiting tables is not an easy job, after all.”

Xingchen quietly took a step back to widen the distance. “Sir, I do not understand what you mean.”

This vacillating attitude scratched at Raymond’s heart, making him itch. “Conditions, you name your terms. Stay with me for two months.”

Xingchen shook his head. “Sir, I am straight.”

“You!” Raymond reached out to grab his hand, but Xingchen dodged with lightning reflexes. “Then let us go with Combo A. I will place the order for you now.” He walked away immediately.

As Xingchen passed Vincent’s table, the seat was already empty. Did he see it or not? Xingchen felt like he could not breathe. When there were few customers, he went to the back door for a cigarette. He crushed the mint capsule. The cool sensation filled his nasal cavity, and the railing under his arms was ice-cold. The heat in his body dissipated within seconds. With the cold wind blowing through his thin shirt, Xingchen found he could breathe a little easier.

He held the cigarette, his pupils becoming hollow in the smoke. He clutched his forehead and bowed his head. Suddenly, someone forcefully grabbed his waist from behind. Xingchen was startled, and his cigarette fell to the ground. Just as he was about to resist, he was lifted by the back of his knees, and the scent of wood engulfed him.

Xingchen was pushed into the car. The alternating cold and hot skin felt prickly. Just as he tried to touch his cheek, his hands were gripped and pinned above his head.

“Sir, mmph…”

A rough, violent kiss covered his lips. Xingchen was quickly pushed down onto the seat, his legs wrapping around Vincent’s waist. It was too aggressive. Xingchen could not breathe, and the tongue exploring his mouth felt like it was trying to devour him. Even his lips began to hurt. The faint scent of mint and tobacco permeated the space between their lips, but the cool mint was quickly overtaken by the scorching heat.

Xingchen felt a tight, stabbing pain in his scalp. His hair was being pulled, forcing him to lift his neck and accept the kiss passively, even more deeply and like a sacrifice. Vincent released him a second before he fainted. He took off Xingchen’s glasses and kissed the red mole at the corner of his eye, his gentleness seeming to belong to a completely different person than the one who had just been so aggressive.

“Resign.”

Just that one word.

Stars danced in Xingchen’s vision. He gasped for air, and even then, he could not help but offer a cat-like protest. “I cannot resign.”

Vincent was patient, brushing his thumb over the mole, coaxing him with a gentleness that sounded like a temptation. “Why?”

Xingchen shook his head, strands of hair sticking to his face. “I, I know that we…” He trailed off, his voice very small. “What if you stop wanting me one day?”

Vincent’s hand paused. He released his grip and pulled out his phone. A moment later, a notification sounded. Vincent did not let him take the phone but showed him his screen: fifty thousand dollars.

“Resign.”

“Um, okay,” Xingchen whispered. “But I have to finish through Christmas. I cannot be that irresponsible.”

“Fine.” Vincent did not press the matter further.

With the heavy stone lifted from his heart, Xingchen returned to the restaurant, holding his swollen, red lips. He transferred the money immediately, staring at his empty account in a daze.

Jizuo: “Awesome!”

Xingchen: “Hurry up.”

When he got home, Xingchen habitually went to take off his wig, but reached into empty air. He took a shower, smearing makeup remover over his entire body, using up half a bottle. He ran out of hot water halfway through, but Xingchen did not care; he finished with cold water. He dried himself, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked out of the bathroom while drying his hair. A little more run-away money, and then he could escape. It did not need to be too much, just a few thousand; one or two weeks would be enough.

His phone rang, and Xingchen’s heart skipped a beat. Aside from his benefactor, his phone never rang. When it did, it meant something big had happened. Xingchen scrambled to find his phone in his coat pocket. It was Jizuo.

As soon as he picked up, Jizuo’s frantic voice exploded out: “Xingchen, it is over! Diego’s bail has run into trouble!”

Xingchen gripped his phone tightly. “What trouble? Is the bail not fifteen thousand? Did the judge raise it?”

Jizuo: “No, it is the bail bondsman!”

“Diego’s superior is also inside. He wants Diego to plead guilty and has leaked word that no one is allowed to bail Diego out. The bail bondsman we found is now too scared to go through with it. With our current identities, there is no way we can bail him out ourselves. If we go, are we not just like the Calabash Brothers trying to save their grandfather?”

Xingchen’s brows knitted together. “Find a bail agency.”

Jizuo: “I thought of that, but you know how well-informed those agencies are. They know the movement of every prison. There is one agency willing to do it, but they are lions opening their mouths; they want twenty percent!”

Normal agencies charged ten percent. This agency clearly knew the situation and was betting they would pay the twenty percent. Xingchen put the phone on speaker, pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, crushed the capsule, and took half the cigarette in one drag.

“How much longer can Diego hold out?”

Jizuo: “We originally planned for two more days, but with the pressure from his superior, his subordinates will likely try to pin everything on him immediately. Xingchen, once all of Diego’s business is exposed, he will not be escaping a life sentence! And nobody knows if he can hold out. If he breaks, you, me, and Xingning are all finished! This state still has the death penalty!”

Xingchen took a deep breath and finished the rest of the cigarette.

“Which means, if Diego is not out by tomorrow…”

Jizuo answered quickly: “Yes, tomorrow. We only have one day left.”

Xingchen closed his eyes. “Vincent will not be able to provide that much cash in such a short time.”

Jizuo shouted in despair: “Then what are we going to do?”

Xingchen opened his eyes. His emerald green eyes were devoid of any humanity. “We will just have to steal by credit card.”

“Huh?” Jizuo panicked. “We are not professionals at that! We can swipe it, but it will be discovered immediately. As soon as you swipe it, you have to run.”

“Then we will run,” Xingchen said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I have been running my whole life, what is one more time?”