He picked up Qin Yuzheng's half-finished hot cocoa from the coffee table and took a sip from the rim of the cup. His eyes suddenly turned cold. "What a pity for that 1982 Lafite. I wanted to wait until I finished dealing with the 'guests' before drinking it together."
Qin Yuzheng finally put down his pen and looked sideways at him.
The corners of Qin Yuheng's eyes were still flushed from the fight, and the strands of hair on his forehead were wet and stuck to his skin, but it did not diminish his almost uncanny handsomeness at all.
He raised his hand and wiped the cocoa stains from the corner of Qin Yuheng's lips with a tissue. When his fingertips brushed across the soft lips, he felt an imperceptible tremor in the other person's body.
"Next time you want to hit someone with red wine, use the cheap ones first."
There was no emotion in Qin Yuzheng's tone, but his fingers paused at Qin Yuheng's brow bone - there was a bruise there, which was accidentally bumped when he was dodging the steel pipe just now.
Qin Yuheng seemed not to feel the pain. Instead, he buried his face in his brother's neck, greedily absorbing the cedar scent: "I know, brother."
His voice was muffled, with a coquettish nasal twang. "But fighting those losers is really boring. Brother Tiger's fighting style is still the same old routine from ten years ago. It's not as interesting as the sparring partners I met at the MMA training camp."
When talking about special training abroad, Qin Yuzheng's eyes darkened.
The year his father passed away, he sent the fifteen-year-old Qin Yuheng to a secret training camp in Northern Europe. When he brought him back three years later, the boy's hostility was almost condensed into substance, and he would only let down all his guard in front of him.
"There's no need to talk about the past." He said lightly, but his palm pressed on the back of Qin Yuheng's neck and kneaded it gently.
This was their unique way of comforting each other. Qin Yuheng immediately relaxed, like a young animal having its fur stroked, and a satisfied hum escaped from his throat.
At this moment, Qin Yuzheng's cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, and Ji Yan's name appeared on the screen.
"Mr. Qin," Ji Yan's voice came through the receiver, as calm as a precision instrument.
"Dingfeng Capital's audit report has been simultaneously provided to the China Securities Regulatory Commission. When Wang Zhenhai's private plane was detained, it was carrying jewelry and cash worth 30 million yuan. These have now been seized as property involved in the case."
"In addition, after leaving Yunqi Villa, Ruan Weiwei 'accidentally' saved Wang Zhenhai's personal phone number as the Economic Investigation Division's reporting hotline. Several former Dingfeng employees have already filed real-name reports using that number."
Qin Yuheng lay on Qin Yuzheng's lap, heard everything clearly, and a sly smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
He stretched out his fingers and drew circles on Qin Yuzheng's palm, his nails gently scratching the lines on the palm.
"What about the follow-up treatment of Ruan Weiwei?" Qin Yuzheng asked, his eyes falling on Qin Yuheng's restless fingers.
"Follow the instructions of Young Master Qin," Ji Yan paused and continued.
"We 'accidentally' leaked Dingfeng's impending bankruptcy news to her lending platform, and the debt collection agency is now monitoring it 24 hours a day. Furthermore, explicit recordings of her conversations with Wang Zhenhai have been anonymously sent to Dingfeng's major partners, including Mrs. Wang's private email account."
After hanging up the phone, Qin Yuheng raised his head, his eyes shining like stars. "Brother, do you think Wang Zhenhai, when he heard in the detention center that his wife wanted to divorce him and that we were taking over the company, would he be so angry that he would vomit blood?"
His tone was as if he was discussing tomorrow's weather, but only the cold light that flashed in his eyes revealed the hidden cruelty.
Qin Yuzheng didn't answer, but just put his hand on the top of Qin Yuheng's head and rubbed it gently.
The sky outside the window gradually turned white, and the first ray of morning light penetrated the clouds and fell on Qin Yuheng's upturned face, making the amber in his pupils shine brightly.
He grabbed Qin Yuzheng's wrist and pressed that hand against his heart, feeling the steady heartbeat gradually synchronize with his own frantic pulse.
"Brother," he said softly, "They all say that the Qin family is your kingdom, but only I know it."
He paused, his smile gentle and almost reverent, "This is our hunting ground, right?"
Qin Yuzheng looked at the undisguised possessiveness in his eyes, was silent for a moment, and finally nodded slightly.
"Go get some sleep," Qin Yuzheng stood up and draped the cashmere sweater over Qin Yuheng's shoulders. "Accompany me to meet the designer of the South City project this afternoon."
"Yeah!" Qin Yuheng immediately stood up, turned around and left like a soldier who had received an order.
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