[fic]Cruel Intentions trilogy: Retribution One
I think I should explain myself a little about the situation with Cruel Intentions. I’ve decided to end ‘Revelation’ as it is in Chapter 14 but continue the story, as requested, in a new arc that will conclude CI as a trilogy. The point of Revelation that follows NT plotline from start to finish was to have all the characters come clean with with their feelings and the truth that, IMO, was all done in chapter 14. The new arc will be about how they deal with it and settle all their scores. This will be the last arc, and I promise not to drag it to Star Wars or Harry Potter length LOL Here it is, ‘Retribution’, and I hope you enjoy it. (Now I shall go back to sipping my morning coffee on the terrace of my pool access room in Bali while writing the new chapter *is in heaven*)
Title: Retribution One
Rating: PG
Warning: Major angst
Characters: Mikhail, Fei Long, Alexei
Spoiler: None this chapter
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Notes: Thank you angel0399 for the great beta job! *hugs* and special thanks to butterflysb for helping with the Chinese ^_^
Moscow
The family dining room in the Arbatov estate was relatively small compared to the rest of the house and its decoration noticeably more subtle, giving the room a more intimate and warming ambience. The 30,000 square-foot residence was designed strictly to meet Vladimir Arbatov’s instructions, which was to lavishly decorate the more publicly used areas, and keep another set of rooms for private use that were smaller in size, and more functional and cozy in its decoration.
On the dining table that held up to twelve guests, only two were present. Vladimir sat quietly at one end, sipping his wine as he went through the food on his plate slowly without saying a word to the young woman across the table, who occasionally joined him for dinner at his request. It wasn’t the atmosphere he had intended it to be. The house was once filled with life, even after his wife had passed away. Now it seemed unbearably empty, even when he’d recently gained one more person into his family. The irony of it was that both he and Feodora may have lost something in the process, rather than gained something they’d always wanted.
The sound of heavy footsteps approached from the drawing room. He looked up, surprised at the crude and blatant intrusion he wasn’t expecting. But the sight of the intruder made him question whether his eyes had deceived him.
“Mikhail?”
A loud thump sounded as the small black leather case hit the table. Vladimir glanced briefly at the object, carelessly tossed in front of him by the son who’d never before failed to show the proper respect for his father, before looking up at Mikhail with disapproval in his eyes. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Ignoring the look from his father, Mikhail pulled up a chair and seated himself with an indifferent attitude. At that point, there was nothing the other man or anyone else could have said that would have an effect on him. He’d simply lost the ability to care.
“My travel documents,” Mikhail replied as he leaned back on his chair and gestured for his wine glass to be filled. “Keep them, and stay away from Baishe.”
Vladimir paused and calmly placed the wine glass on the table before shifting his gaze to meet the icy blue eyes. “I haven’t seen you for months, and this is how you greet me? Did you even take a glance at your wife when you came in?”
“What do you want me to do? Dance for you?” Mikhail replied with a sneer. “And as for my wife, I’ll be looking at her for the rest of my life. You don’t have to worry.”
“Mikhail,” Feodora called in an attempt to interrupt the conversation that was getting worse by the minute. Even though those words stung like acid, deep down she knew something had happened. Mikhail could be extremely blunt at times, but he was never cruel, at least not to her, who had been a close friend for nearly three decades. And for this reason, while other woman might have taken the statement offensively being in her situation, all she found in her heart was worry. “Please. We’re having dinner. I’m sure your father would love for you to join us.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikhail replied bluntly without turning around to look at Feodora. He was aware of his cold disposition, but at that moment, everything seemed to get on his nerves, be it Feodora’s attempt to make everything seem all right or his father’s commanding attitude that had never changed. Being back in Moscow and seeing the old man made him feel like a failure. A gentle smile from his wife, whose presence alone reminded him of the situation he found himself in, seemed like a victorious smirk. But what he despised the most was the indication that everything was still the same when, to him, nothing was.
“So what do you say? Are you willing to hold up your end of the deal?
“When you learn to speak to me with proper respect, we’ll talk,” Vladimir said as he picked up the tall glass again and continued to drink his wine unaffected.
Mikhail’s laughter filled the room, one that stung with extreme sarcasm⎯ it was difficult to tell whether he was laughing at his father’s words or himself.
“Seriously, dad, I don’t give a fuck. I’m done being your puppet,” Mikhail said as he pushed back the chair with force, creating a loud screeching noise on purpose before he abruptly stood up. He intentionally knocked the wine glass over with his hand, spilling the red liquid onto the pure white table linen. “Stay away from Baishe,” he warned, the look in his eyes made sure it was clearly understood that all hell would break lose unless it was followed.
The silence in that dining room seemed like it’d lasted for hours after Mikhail left, even though only minutes had passed It took a while before Feodora could let go of her breath and sighed in a mixture of relief and despair. Vladimir, however, continued to sit there quietly, staring at his glass as if the red liqueur wasn’t wine, but blood, or something equally disturbing.
“I guess the good thing is he’s back,” Feodora said. Even though the goal was to convince the old man that there was still hope for things to go back to the way they were, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded in convincing herself of the fact. For a while she’d imagined how good it would be to have him back in her life, with or without love for her. But now, deep down, she was beginning to feel the complete opposite.
“I don’t know, Feodora,” Valdimir finally spoke, his eyes still fixated at the glass in his hand. “The last time I saw that look on his face was 15 years ago. And two weeks later, he was in the hospital for a drug overdose.”
Feodora held her breath as those horrifying images she’d long placed at the back of her mind resurfaced. With all their quarrels, she’d almost forgotten who Vladimir was. The man sitting across the table had always been a loving father who treasured nothing more than his own family. While she had managed to seal away those haunting memories of Mikhail, Vladimir must have remembered every moment of it, everyday, down to the tiny details of his son’s expression when he was completely helpless and broken.
“I wish he’d one day understand how you feel,” she couldn’t help but comment.
The man tilted the glass in his hand while those eyes continued to fix on an image in his head he alone could see, while holding back an emotion he didn’t wish to show.
“It was never his job to know.”
***
Hong Kong
Wong found himself holding his breath in front of the door to his master’s bedroom. It had been three weeks since the incidence on the ship, and since then, his master had bestowed upon him a task that made him want to request for resignation on a daily basis.
At six a.m. sharp every morning, he was required to knock on his master’s door to wake him up for his training. It wasn’t a problem except that he could never seem to accomplish the task. For three weeks, not once was he required to wait before the silky smooth voice allowed him to enter within seconds. And every time he’d entered the room his master would be in the same spot, sitting on his bed and staring into the darkness while his mind seemed to circle around something that was always present in his head. It was a picture that would’ve impacted all of his loyal subordinates’ state of mind, yet, he was the only one who had to see it everyday. No one else would know that the master would only appear like himself again. after exerting himself for two hours in the act of violence of his training everyday.
Despite being the only witness, he still wondered if anyone else noticed the slight difference in their master’s behavior. He wondered if the maids saw the teacup in his master’s hand hovering briefly in the air whenever those amethyst eyes noticed the jar of biscotti he’d always kept in his living room for a certain guest. Or whether the cooks realized the smell of brewing coffee from the kitchen made their master stop in his track for a few seconds before he’d start walking again, or whether the housekeeper noticed the new bottle of aftershave by their master’s nightstand, and its smell that came from his pillows rather than his clothing. Perhaps his master, too, realized this when he gave him Tao’s job⎯ the boy was always the first to notice when things weren’t right. It would explain why, despise Tao’s objections, the boy had been excluded from a lot of activities around the master lately.
Standing in front of that door, Wong couldn’t help but ponder how Yoh felt after all those years, being the one in charge of this duty, seeing and knowing everything that happened to the master and having to keep his mouth shut while carrying out his work to perfection. He didn’t understand until then the burden of being Liu Fei Long’s right hand man that fell on his shoulders⎯ the burden of having to see his every suffering, and at the same time, knowing that it wasn’t in his place to help, or anyone else’s. Liu Fei Long was the man his subordinates looked up to and worshiped, but never mingled with. The man was at the top of Hong Kong’s underworld, and on this pedestal, he stood alone.
Wong adjusted himself and decided to knock twice on the door, hoping that the answer wouldn’t come so readily. But it did, and there his mater was, on his bed, staring at something invisible as if he had no other choice. Although that day, he brought with him news that might make a difference, and he stepped into that room feeling a little more hopeful than usual.
“Laoban, Ma sifu* has arrived and is waiting for you in the garden,” Wong said as he opened the curtains to allow some sunlight into the room, to which his master quickly shielded his eyes.
Hearing the name made Fei Long lift his face, and for a split second, life seemed present in those eyes again before it slowly faded away. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied, rising from the bed to get dressed. Ma Chong De had been the family’s kung-fu instructor for many decades who had trained not only him and Yan Tsui, but Liu senior himself. After the death of his father, he was dismissed and had moved back to the mainland; Fei Long had not called upon him until now. To him, Ma sifu was a part of the family, someone he knew and respected like a father. Until now, Fei Long didn’t have the heart to burden the old man. But this time he felt he needed some guidance, something no other instructor could give him.
On the roof of Baishe headquarters housed a helipad and a small, private garden. While Fei Long kept an entire floor of the building as his training space, that day he’d decided to use the garden for the session and had ordered everyone to clear out of the area, leaving only Wong to keep watch and a maid to accommodate his needs during training.
For half an hour, Wong stood by the stone table where Ma sifu sat watching his student practice on the same muk yan jong** that had been passed down in the family for generations. With his hair tied back neatly in a tight braid and his upper body unclothed, the dragon of Baishe was a vision of pure strength and undeniable beauty. While every move was rendered with grace, each strike was precise and deadly. It was a sight not many people were allowed to see⎯ one that was simply impossible to look away or forget. Liu Fei Long of Baishe may seem somewhat femininely elegant, but there was nothing feminine about his form or the ability to attack. While Wong would not dare to imagine what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of these strikes, at times he could hardly tell whether it was the muk yan jong that his master was striking at, or himself.
“That’s enough,” said the old man, who watched in complete silence from the beginning. He rose from the chair and walked towards his student with the air of intimidation about him that could silence even the birds in that garden and made a man like Liu Fei Long of Baishe swallow the bile in his throat.
Fei Long stopped and straightened himself in front of his instructor, trying to steady his breath as he waited for the comment that he knew would strike him like lightning. Seven years had passed, and he could still recognize the message in that tone of voice all too perfectly. The reason why this man had been with the family for so long was because of his sincerity. Chong De da shi* had never hesitated to deliver a serious blow or a direct comment that would improve his students, no matter who they were. The Taoist da shi doesn’t speak a lot, but when he does, one either takes his words seriously, or expects to pay a high price for the negligence. After all, this was the man who once smacked his father with a cane and called him a “stupid fool.”
Standing just an arm’s length away, Ma Chong De crossed his arms behind his back, which was still surprisingly straight for a man of his age. His dark brown eyes traveled from his student’s face down to his feet and back with a mixture of disappointment and sympathy, the kind of look only he was allowed to give the leader of Baishe.
“It’s been more than seven years since I last saw you, and until now you’re still that six-year old child who has yet to grow up,” he said, shaking his head slightly at the man who stood before him with eyes that were still of the same boy decades ago. “The heart of Wing Chun is finding your centerline. It’s the most important thing in your body. You protect it with your life, and you strike by it. Lose your centerline, and you will be defeated.”
Fei Long nodded quietly with great respect. He knew every word his da shi said was true. But it was the first time in his grown up life that he was accused of still being a child. Needless to say, the criticism went right under his skin.
“Whenever something troubles you, you lose sight of what’s really important. This is why you’ve never defeated your brother. Yan Tsui strikes with a clear and dedicated mind. While you always allow your movements to be dictated by your emotions,” the old man added and lowered his gaze to the scar on his student’s chest. “Does it still hurt?”
Taken aback by the question he wasn’t expecting, Fei Long paused a little before answering. “…No, da shi,” he replied with a tone of uncertainty. It no longer hurt physically, and he was sure it was what his da shi meant. But somehow, his words suddenly lacked confidence.
“And yet, you continue to guard it when you fight.”
“It wasn’t my intention,” Fei Long explained. He was never aware of the fact, nor has any other trainer picked up on it.
A heavy sigh escaped the old man’s lips as he closed his eyes and opened them again. Truly this was still the same boy he knew when they first met⎯ a student who took every lesson with utmost dedication and never forgot his errors.
“Learn from your mistakes, Long Er. Don’t live in it.”
Fei Long took a deep breath as he listened. It was normal of Chong De da shi to see through him with just a brief look at his performance. Whenever something troubled him in the past, the man was the first to know. Perhaps he was also right this time; he was still that same child from decades ago.
“The way of Wing Chun is the way of life. The only place you look is forward. Only then you will find your centerline,” he added with a calm and concerning tone. The youngest son of Liu senior had always been the most talented one in the family, but even now he wasn’t able to bring out that talent. There were always walls around this child that he could not penetrate, something the boy he knew twenty-three years ago built to contain his pain and suffering in order to survive. Twenty-three years later and those walls were still intact, along with every pain and every scar he nurtured for decades.
“There are things you must learn to leave behind, or sooner or later you will lose something that is closest to your heart,” he added before turning around to walk away. “Until then, you are wasting my time.”
It was the first time Wong had seen someone walked out on his master that way. And all Fei Long did was stand quietly in front of the training equipment, as if he too was a lifeless piece of wood. He wanted to say something to wake his master from his thoughts, but decided it wasn’t his place to interrupt. Perhaps it was what his master needed⎯ silence, and time to allow those conversations to sink in.
The schedule for the rest of his master’s day was packed with meetings and business events that even Wong found exhausting. Just reading the two-paged list of things that required Liu Fei Long’s presence left him spent. As always, the head of Baishe went through it with unfailing dedication, never showing a hint of fatigue in public. Even when he was riding in his own limousine at the end of the day, the image Wong saw in the rearview mirror was that of a man sitting with his back perfectly straight and his chin held high, as if that was another place he must conceal all his weaknesses, be it physically or emotionally.
Fei Long closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, one that wouldn’t be noticed unless one was paying close attention. Despite his unaffected appearance, he was exhausted enough to sleep for a week, except sleeping was something he could hardly control himself to get enough. For the past three weeks he would wake up in the middle of the night feeling suffocated, and then it was impossible for him to go back to sleep again. There was also the constant headache, which came and went several times a day, that was making him more exhausted. He knew he needed a break, but at that moment, no matter where he went, he felt tired and somewhat…caged.
“Laoban,” Wong couldn’t help but asked the inappropriate question. “Are you all right?”
“I’m just tired,” Fei Long opened his eyes again and admitted, still trying his best not to show it in his expression.
“Is there anywhere you would like to go?” Wong asked, hoping that perhaps there was a place⎯ a beach or a park⎯ where his master could relieve some stress. It was the least he could do.
Fei Long thought for a moment, surprised that despite his efforts to conceal his state of mind, his relatively new bodyguard still somehow noticed it.
“A place I’d like to go,” Fei Long repeated with a sarcastic smile. He wondered if there had ever been one. Ever since he could remember, there were places he was required to be and things he had to do. Where he wanted to go was a question he couldn’t answer with certainty. “Have I ever wanted to be anywhere, Wong?”
“No, Laoban,” Wong replied after a brief moment of recollection. “But there must be a place that makes you smile.”
A place that makes me smile, Fei Long thought. The answer to that question wasn’t a place, it was a person⎯ one that had already gone too far out of his reach.
But then again…
“Perhaps there is a place you can take me.”
***
Fei Long paused in front of the building’s entrance and looked up at the sky; it was getting dark. His meetings had turned out to be much longer than he’d expected. And while he knew with his fatigue he should head back to Baishe to rest, however, the only place that could have put his mind at ease wasn’t home. It was there, in the penthouse at the very top of this building.
He stepped into the private elevator and punched in the security code his fingers knew without thinking. But,the screen notified him that the code had been invalid. Confused, he punched in the numbers again and again, until it became apparent that something must have gone wrong.
He reached for the phone in his suit’s jacket and dialed the one man who would be able to answer his question⎯ the one he was still allowed to call.
“Alexei,” he said as the call was picked up. “I can’t get into the penthouse.”
There was a brief silence from the other end of the line before a heavy sigh was heard⎯ a sigh that indicated the man had full knowledge of the situation, but the explanation was simply difficult to utter.
“I can’t let you in,” Alexei answered, the usual playfulness missing from his tone.
Fei Long paused for a few seconds at the response he didn’t expect to hear. At that point, his exhausted state of mind couldn’t make out the true meaning behind those words. “…He asked you to change the code?”
“No,” Alexei replied half-heartedly. He didn’t know how to deliver the news he’d been keeping for weeks. Even to someone like him, the situation wasn’t easy to explain, especially when he knew Fei Long would take it badly, whether or not it was his brother’s intention. “It’s been sold.”
He didn’t know how long he stood there unconsciously holding his breath, or how long it took for him to fully grasp the situation, but for the first time in his life he didn’t know how to respond. The answer was direct, right to the point and its meaning clearly understood without any explanation. Mikhail had truly made up his mind to leave it all behind and destroy all evidence of him in his life. Everything, along with the memories he’d decided to keep, with or without Mikhail’s consent.
“Fei Long,“ Alexei called. “Are you still there?”
“… to who?” he asked in almost a whisper, clenching his teeth as he felt his lungs constricted. The headache he thought had gone away that morning returned, with an intensity that felt like he was being struck by lightning.
Alexei sighed again, this time with obvious frustration loud enough to be heard over the phone. “Don’t even think about it. He’s going to kill me.”
“I have every right to buy it and you know this, Alexei,” Fei Long demanded with anger rising in his tone. He knew he was taking it out on Alexei, who probably had no choice in the matter, but at that point the pain in his head prevented him from making any logical judgment. He no longer possessed the strength to hold anything back.
“For god’s sake, Fei Long, just let it go,” Alexei stood his ground. Whatever Fei Long thought he was doing wasn’t going to help. It would only make things worse for the two of them and he refused to be the one stuck in the middle of this mess. “I really can’t help you.”
The connection was cut from the other end, and Fei Long found himself hurling the phone at the wall, shattering it into pieces. Broken, just like everything else in his life.
He stepped out of the building in an attempt to leave the place he was no longer allowed to enter, feeling a mixture of anger and hopelessness. Before crossing the street, he turned and looked up at the penthouse that had never been his home, but his refuge⎯ somewhere he could go whenever things were too troublesome to handle. Up there, in that penthouse, contained things he wouldn’t let anyone else touch or remove, places he refused to see anyone else occupy, and memories he would never let go. And now that this place, too, had slipped through his fingers, the world seemed to have closed down upon him on every side. And once more, he was back in the small, dark prison cell he had locked himself in seven years ago, only this time it was without his consent.
Fei Long looked up at the sky again as a drop of water landed on his cheek. It began with one drop, then two, before the whole sky seemed to have fallen upon him together with the cold, and heavy rain that pricked his skin like a thousand needles. He remembered such a rain, how it felt back then on his face, and how it tasted mixed with his own tears. Only now he had no more tears left to shed, and there was no Asami to envelope him with his warmth and carry him out of this darkness. This time he would be left here, on the side of the road, where his parents had intended him to be⎯ a place deserving of a child whose existence marks the evidence of a shameful and regrettable act.
He didn’t know how long he stood there in the rain, or how long he’d intended to stay, but the next thing he knew, he was interrupted by the sound of a powerful engine that stopped just a few steps from him.
The bright yellow door of the Murcielago flung open to reveal the driver inside. Fei Long paused for a few seconds before smiling at himself in self-pity. He had to be one of the biggest fools of all to even think that the man inside might just be Mikhail.
“Get your ass in the car. I’m not going out there to get you,” Alexei said in frustration. He had a hunch Fei Long would still be here, but not in the middle of the rain, soaked from head to toe. It was pure coincidence that he happened to be in Hong Kong that day that he was able to be there so readily.
Fei Long took a deep breath, and sighed as he thought how ironic it was that the man who turned out to be his savior this time was Alexei Arbatov. He stepped into the car he’d been in countless times, only the person driving it was someone else. The car smelled different inside with a hint of tobacco that was never present before. Mikhail would never smoke in his Lamborghini. It was who he was. The man always took care of the things he loved, down to the very tiny details. And to the things he doesn’t, he would never lift a finger.
“Here,” Alexei said as he took off his jacket and tossed it into the long haired man’s lap.
Fei Long looked at the man behind the wheel, surprised at the gesture of compassion never seen before in the younger son of the Arbatov family, and returned the jacket. “Forget it. The thought of you having some decency freaks me out.”
“Decency? You must be hallucinating to think I have any,” Alexei replied, rolling his eyes at the implication and tossed the jacket back where it was the first time. “You’re dripping all over the seat. And buckle up. I’m taking you home before you get ill and die on me.”
Leaning back on the leather seat, Fei Long ignored the garment on his lap and closed his eyes, hoping the throbbing pain in his head would lessen and his exhausted state would improve. “I don’t want to go home.”
“Ok, your Highness. Where to?”
“Anywhere,” Fei Long replied, turning his head away to look out the window. He was too tired and too cold to think. But the last thing he wanted to do was go back to Baishe in that state, and worry Tao and his subordinates anymore than he already had in the past few weeks.
“Be careful, Liu Laoban. ‘Anywhere’ in my dictionary means on my bed in my hotel room.”
Under normal circumstances, the dragon would have lashed back at him somehow for the suggestion. But that day the man looked as though he no longer cared. And even though he would usually jump at the opportunity and take advantage of the situation, the look on that flawless face somehow gave him his long lost conscience.
“I don’t give a damn, Alexei,” Fei Long said with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to think or care about anything anymore. There was nothing Alexei could do to damage the situation he was in more than it already was. All that was left within his was this void he didn’t know how to fill. “What do I have to lose?”
The last sentence, coupled with the expression on that pretty face, made Alexei sigh in defeat. He didn’t know how Mikhail had put up with it, this side of Fei Long that could turn the world into one unbearable place whenever something wounded him deeply. He’d always disliked people who dwelled in their pain rather than putting it behind them and moving on. But oddly enough, every once in a while he would still find himself right here, fixated, and unable to look away from this man.
“What are you doing?” Fei Long looked up and asked as Alexei turned the car around and entered the building’s parking lot.
“Taking you up to that damn penthouse.”
***
The elevator door opened, revealing the living room’s entrance just as it was in his memory. Fei Long stood still in the elevator for a few seconds as the scent of musky aftershave reached his nose⎯ the scent he had often tried to duplicate and failed many times before. They say perfumes smell different on each person. By then he knew, it wasn’t the fragrance of aftershave that he missed, it was the smell of it on Mikhail’s skin, the smell that still lingered in this room.
“I thought you said it’s been sold,” Fei Long asked as he stepped out of the elevator and noticed everything was still in its place, from the rows of liqueur at the bar, the unfinished jar of biscotti by the espresso machine, down to the pair of black Egyptian cotton slippers left by the door. It was as though Mikhail was still living there and had left just minutes ago.
“It has. But the new owner has yet to move in, and…” Alexei paused as he thought of the right way to explain. But the one he thought needed an explanation, however, seemed to understand it readily.
“He didn’t want to keep any of this, did he?” Fei Long said as he stood in front of the black lambskin leather jacket hung by the door, the one Mikhail wore the last time they were together. He reached for the inside pocket and found that the case of Treasurer Black was still there, along with the sterling silver lighter where his fingerprints still showed.
The obvious truth needed no confirmation, and so Alexei stood there quietly, watching the elegant fingers pick up a roll of cigarette and place it between his lips, before he lit it with Mikhail’s lighter. The expression on that beautiful face was hard to interpret. He wasn’t sure if Fei Long was enjoying dwelling in this room full of history, or if that was a spiteful smile he had on his face whenever his eyes caught a glimpse of something in that room.
“Why don’t you go take a shower while I go get us something for dinner,” Alexei said and walked back to the elevator without waiting for a response. The truth was, he simply needed to get out of that room.
You stupid bastard, Alexei cursed quietly at himself as the door closed. Was that butterflies in his stomach back there? He still didn’t know why he’d decided to cut short his meeting just to be here after that phone conversation. He didn’t know why, having already taken this man, twice to be exact, he still found himself overcome by desire every time he was in Fei Long’s presence. There had never been anyone in his life who could make him do things against his will quite like the head of Baishe. And should all this qualify as the unconceivable circumstance that he may have actually fallen for someone, why does it have to be this man, of all people, who happen to be his brother’s love of his life?
The elevator door opened again, prompting Alexei to close his eyes and quickly brush aside the thoughts in his head. He was sure whatever he felt was just sexual desire, and that he simply hadn’t had enough of the exquisite dragon. Fei Long was, after all, someone beyond extraordinary.
He returned to the penthouse again later that evening with dinner, only to find the living room quiet and empty. At first he felt a kind of relief that Fei Long may have left the place, but then he noticed that his shoes were still there, by the door.
“Fei Long?” Alexei called as he entered the bedroom and paused at the sight of the man lying on the bed. Taking a few steps forward, Alexei found himself holding his breath as he stood over the unconscious body covered to the waist by the plush, down duvet. Fei Long was sleeping on his side in the black silk robe that was left there before Mikhail had put it out on the market. Unconsciously, he reached out to push away the still partially wet long hair that laid its length against the flawless face, and felt another strange sensation in his stomach the moment his fingertips touched the silky, smooth skin. For some reason, every little thing about Fei Long seemed to have an affect on him, from the small amount of skin of his neck that showed through the strands of ebony hair, the partially exposed collarbone that moved as he breathed, to the outline of a perfectly built body covered by the thin sheet of slippery black silk. The man lying on his brother’s bed was, to him, a temptation sent by the Devil - one he knew would send him to the deepest layer of hell should he succumb to it.
The thought made him hesitate as his hand hovered over the belt of the silk robe. Just one tug, and this temptation would have been his, right here, right now. To him, self-control had never been one of his virtues. But why did he hesitate?
Just then, his eyes caught a glimpse of something the Baishe leader held in his arms⎯ a jacket that he had seen many times before. It seemed Fei Long had fallen asleep with Mikhail’s jacket, clinging to it as though it had been the man in the flesh.
He drew back his hand and clenched it into a tight fist. The sight somehow put an end to his craving. Even then, when Fei Long was lying there defenseless and exposed, and Mikhail had placed himself out of the picture, there seemed to be no more space for him in between the two. Still, it was beyond his comprehension why he suddenly lost the appetite when all he wanted from this man was sex.
“Alexei,” Fei Long called as he reached for the sleeve of other man’s shirt. He had been awake ever since Alexei entered the room but he was too exhausted to care. He knew exactly what Alexei wanted from him, but now, there was something he wanted from Alexei, no matter the cost. “I’ll sleep with you if you help me get it back.”
Alexei stood in complete silence for a moment, staring into those amethyst eyes as those words, for strange reasons, cut him like a knife. The truth was, he would have jumped at the offer had there been the slightest look of uncertainty on that face, or a hint that such an act would have some effect on his emotions. But despite the weakened state the man was in, the only thing those eyes conveyed was unshakable determination. There wasn’t a shred of desire in them other than the desire to take back the place belonging to another man. Fei Long was offering himself as payment with no strings attached, simply because the man had no intention to give him anything beyond sex. It wasn’t until that day that he realized how cold and heartless Fei Long could be, despite all the affection the man had for his brother.
“I know you probably find me despicable for what I’ve done, but if you think insulting me this way would get you any closer to your goal, think again,” Alexei said, his green eyes flashed with anger as he spoke. “You can sleep here, but get out before noon.”
Fei Long closed his eyes as he sat on the bed with arms wrapped tight around his legs and his face buried underneath the curtain of his hair.
“There must be a place that makes you smile,” Wong said. The truth was, there seemed to be nowhere else he could go that wouldn’t make him feel suffocated. Here in this room where he once laughed and cried freely because Mikhail had been the only one to allow him to was the only remaining light in the darkness that surrounded him. It was the only thing he had left that he didn’t want to lose, the only thing he had left to hold on to.
“Father,” he murmured in almost a whisper. “Please… tell me what to do.”
******************************************************************
*I need to explain this since it confused my beta *hugs* and it was my fault for not clarifying it. I had he pleasure of being assisted by a Hong Kong fan butterflysb who kindly named Fei’s kung fu instructor for me as Ma Chong De (Ma = family name, Chong = lofty, high, esteemed, noble, sublime, saintly,"De" = virtue.) We talked about how he should be called. She suggested that ‘sifu’ (teacher) would be appropriate only when Fei was little, but now that he’s the head of Baishe, Fei should call him da shi (means maestro , Taoist or Buddhist Monk) to be respectful and also to keep his own dignity. Therefore you will see Fei call him Chong De da shi or simply da shi. As for the da shi to address Fei, she suggested that I have him call Fei ‘Fei Er ‘ to not confuse the readers, which marks their relationship as close but keeping some respect, but generally in the Chinese way he would be called “Long Er”. Being as stubborn as I am, I’ve decided I want to go with Long Er which also sounds more correct for me being in the Chinese family myself.
** the muk yan chong is this:
P.S. A lot of people suffered (by my hands) to bring you this chapter, so please comment :D
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Title: Retribution One
Rating: PG
Warning: Major angst
Characters: Mikhail, Fei Long, Alexei
Spoiler: None this chapter
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Notes: Thank you angel0399 for the great beta job! *hugs* and special thanks to butterflysb for helping with the Chinese ^_^
Moscow
The family dining room in the Arbatov estate was relatively small compared to the rest of the house and its decoration noticeably more subtle, giving the room a more intimate and warming ambience. The 30,000 square-foot residence was designed strictly to meet Vladimir Arbatov’s instructions, which was to lavishly decorate the more publicly used areas, and keep another set of rooms for private use that were smaller in size, and more functional and cozy in its decoration.
On the dining table that held up to twelve guests, only two were present. Vladimir sat quietly at one end, sipping his wine as he went through the food on his plate slowly without saying a word to the young woman across the table, who occasionally joined him for dinner at his request. It wasn’t the atmosphere he had intended it to be. The house was once filled with life, even after his wife had passed away. Now it seemed unbearably empty, even when he’d recently gained one more person into his family. The irony of it was that both he and Feodora may have lost something in the process, rather than gained something they’d always wanted.
The sound of heavy footsteps approached from the drawing room. He looked up, surprised at the crude and blatant intrusion he wasn’t expecting. But the sight of the intruder made him question whether his eyes had deceived him.
“Mikhail?”
A loud thump sounded as the small black leather case hit the table. Vladimir glanced briefly at the object, carelessly tossed in front of him by the son who’d never before failed to show the proper respect for his father, before looking up at Mikhail with disapproval in his eyes. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Ignoring the look from his father, Mikhail pulled up a chair and seated himself with an indifferent attitude. At that point, there was nothing the other man or anyone else could have said that would have an effect on him. He’d simply lost the ability to care.
“My travel documents,” Mikhail replied as he leaned back on his chair and gestured for his wine glass to be filled. “Keep them, and stay away from Baishe.”
Vladimir paused and calmly placed the wine glass on the table before shifting his gaze to meet the icy blue eyes. “I haven’t seen you for months, and this is how you greet me? Did you even take a glance at your wife when you came in?”
“What do you want me to do? Dance for you?” Mikhail replied with a sneer. “And as for my wife, I’ll be looking at her for the rest of my life. You don’t have to worry.”
“Mikhail,” Feodora called in an attempt to interrupt the conversation that was getting worse by the minute. Even though those words stung like acid, deep down she knew something had happened. Mikhail could be extremely blunt at times, but he was never cruel, at least not to her, who had been a close friend for nearly three decades. And for this reason, while other woman might have taken the statement offensively being in her situation, all she found in her heart was worry. “Please. We’re having dinner. I’m sure your father would love for you to join us.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikhail replied bluntly without turning around to look at Feodora. He was aware of his cold disposition, but at that moment, everything seemed to get on his nerves, be it Feodora’s attempt to make everything seem all right or his father’s commanding attitude that had never changed. Being back in Moscow and seeing the old man made him feel like a failure. A gentle smile from his wife, whose presence alone reminded him of the situation he found himself in, seemed like a victorious smirk. But what he despised the most was the indication that everything was still the same when, to him, nothing was.
“So what do you say? Are you willing to hold up your end of the deal?
“When you learn to speak to me with proper respect, we’ll talk,” Vladimir said as he picked up the tall glass again and continued to drink his wine unaffected.
Mikhail’s laughter filled the room, one that stung with extreme sarcasm⎯ it was difficult to tell whether he was laughing at his father’s words or himself.
“Seriously, dad, I don’t give a fuck. I’m done being your puppet,” Mikhail said as he pushed back the chair with force, creating a loud screeching noise on purpose before he abruptly stood up. He intentionally knocked the wine glass over with his hand, spilling the red liquid onto the pure white table linen. “Stay away from Baishe,” he warned, the look in his eyes made sure it was clearly understood that all hell would break lose unless it was followed.
The silence in that dining room seemed like it’d lasted for hours after Mikhail left, even though only minutes had passed It took a while before Feodora could let go of her breath and sighed in a mixture of relief and despair. Vladimir, however, continued to sit there quietly, staring at his glass as if the red liqueur wasn’t wine, but blood, or something equally disturbing.
“I guess the good thing is he’s back,” Feodora said. Even though the goal was to convince the old man that there was still hope for things to go back to the way they were, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded in convincing herself of the fact. For a while she’d imagined how good it would be to have him back in her life, with or without love for her. But now, deep down, she was beginning to feel the complete opposite.
“I don’t know, Feodora,” Valdimir finally spoke, his eyes still fixated at the glass in his hand. “The last time I saw that look on his face was 15 years ago. And two weeks later, he was in the hospital for a drug overdose.”
Feodora held her breath as those horrifying images she’d long placed at the back of her mind resurfaced. With all their quarrels, she’d almost forgotten who Vladimir was. The man sitting across the table had always been a loving father who treasured nothing more than his own family. While she had managed to seal away those haunting memories of Mikhail, Vladimir must have remembered every moment of it, everyday, down to the tiny details of his son’s expression when he was completely helpless and broken.
“I wish he’d one day understand how you feel,” she couldn’t help but comment.
The man tilted the glass in his hand while those eyes continued to fix on an image in his head he alone could see, while holding back an emotion he didn’t wish to show.
“It was never his job to know.”
***
Hong Kong
Wong found himself holding his breath in front of the door to his master’s bedroom. It had been three weeks since the incidence on the ship, and since then, his master had bestowed upon him a task that made him want to request for resignation on a daily basis.
At six a.m. sharp every morning, he was required to knock on his master’s door to wake him up for his training. It wasn’t a problem except that he could never seem to accomplish the task. For three weeks, not once was he required to wait before the silky smooth voice allowed him to enter within seconds. And every time he’d entered the room his master would be in the same spot, sitting on his bed and staring into the darkness while his mind seemed to circle around something that was always present in his head. It was a picture that would’ve impacted all of his loyal subordinates’ state of mind, yet, he was the only one who had to see it everyday. No one else would know that the master would only appear like himself again. after exerting himself for two hours in the act of violence of his training everyday.
Despite being the only witness, he still wondered if anyone else noticed the slight difference in their master’s behavior. He wondered if the maids saw the teacup in his master’s hand hovering briefly in the air whenever those amethyst eyes noticed the jar of biscotti he’d always kept in his living room for a certain guest. Or whether the cooks realized the smell of brewing coffee from the kitchen made their master stop in his track for a few seconds before he’d start walking again, or whether the housekeeper noticed the new bottle of aftershave by their master’s nightstand, and its smell that came from his pillows rather than his clothing. Perhaps his master, too, realized this when he gave him Tao’s job⎯ the boy was always the first to notice when things weren’t right. It would explain why, despise Tao’s objections, the boy had been excluded from a lot of activities around the master lately.
Standing in front of that door, Wong couldn’t help but ponder how Yoh felt after all those years, being the one in charge of this duty, seeing and knowing everything that happened to the master and having to keep his mouth shut while carrying out his work to perfection. He didn’t understand until then the burden of being Liu Fei Long’s right hand man that fell on his shoulders⎯ the burden of having to see his every suffering, and at the same time, knowing that it wasn’t in his place to help, or anyone else’s. Liu Fei Long was the man his subordinates looked up to and worshiped, but never mingled with. The man was at the top of Hong Kong’s underworld, and on this pedestal, he stood alone.
Wong adjusted himself and decided to knock twice on the door, hoping that the answer wouldn’t come so readily. But it did, and there his mater was, on his bed, staring at something invisible as if he had no other choice. Although that day, he brought with him news that might make a difference, and he stepped into that room feeling a little more hopeful than usual.
“Laoban, Ma sifu* has arrived and is waiting for you in the garden,” Wong said as he opened the curtains to allow some sunlight into the room, to which his master quickly shielded his eyes.
Hearing the name made Fei Long lift his face, and for a split second, life seemed present in those eyes again before it slowly faded away. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied, rising from the bed to get dressed. Ma Chong De had been the family’s kung-fu instructor for many decades who had trained not only him and Yan Tsui, but Liu senior himself. After the death of his father, he was dismissed and had moved back to the mainland; Fei Long had not called upon him until now. To him, Ma sifu was a part of the family, someone he knew and respected like a father. Until now, Fei Long didn’t have the heart to burden the old man. But this time he felt he needed some guidance, something no other instructor could give him.
On the roof of Baishe headquarters housed a helipad and a small, private garden. While Fei Long kept an entire floor of the building as his training space, that day he’d decided to use the garden for the session and had ordered everyone to clear out of the area, leaving only Wong to keep watch and a maid to accommodate his needs during training.
For half an hour, Wong stood by the stone table where Ma sifu sat watching his student practice on the same muk yan jong** that had been passed down in the family for generations. With his hair tied back neatly in a tight braid and his upper body unclothed, the dragon of Baishe was a vision of pure strength and undeniable beauty. While every move was rendered with grace, each strike was precise and deadly. It was a sight not many people were allowed to see⎯ one that was simply impossible to look away or forget. Liu Fei Long of Baishe may seem somewhat femininely elegant, but there was nothing feminine about his form or the ability to attack. While Wong would not dare to imagine what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of these strikes, at times he could hardly tell whether it was the muk yan jong that his master was striking at, or himself.
“That’s enough,” said the old man, who watched in complete silence from the beginning. He rose from the chair and walked towards his student with the air of intimidation about him that could silence even the birds in that garden and made a man like Liu Fei Long of Baishe swallow the bile in his throat.
Fei Long stopped and straightened himself in front of his instructor, trying to steady his breath as he waited for the comment that he knew would strike him like lightning. Seven years had passed, and he could still recognize the message in that tone of voice all too perfectly. The reason why this man had been with the family for so long was because of his sincerity. Chong De da shi* had never hesitated to deliver a serious blow or a direct comment that would improve his students, no matter who they were. The Taoist da shi doesn’t speak a lot, but when he does, one either takes his words seriously, or expects to pay a high price for the negligence. After all, this was the man who once smacked his father with a cane and called him a “stupid fool.”
Standing just an arm’s length away, Ma Chong De crossed his arms behind his back, which was still surprisingly straight for a man of his age. His dark brown eyes traveled from his student’s face down to his feet and back with a mixture of disappointment and sympathy, the kind of look only he was allowed to give the leader of Baishe.
“It’s been more than seven years since I last saw you, and until now you’re still that six-year old child who has yet to grow up,” he said, shaking his head slightly at the man who stood before him with eyes that were still of the same boy decades ago. “The heart of Wing Chun is finding your centerline. It’s the most important thing in your body. You protect it with your life, and you strike by it. Lose your centerline, and you will be defeated.”
Fei Long nodded quietly with great respect. He knew every word his da shi said was true. But it was the first time in his grown up life that he was accused of still being a child. Needless to say, the criticism went right under his skin.
“Whenever something troubles you, you lose sight of what’s really important. This is why you’ve never defeated your brother. Yan Tsui strikes with a clear and dedicated mind. While you always allow your movements to be dictated by your emotions,” the old man added and lowered his gaze to the scar on his student’s chest. “Does it still hurt?”
Taken aback by the question he wasn’t expecting, Fei Long paused a little before answering. “…No, da shi,” he replied with a tone of uncertainty. It no longer hurt physically, and he was sure it was what his da shi meant. But somehow, his words suddenly lacked confidence.
“And yet, you continue to guard it when you fight.”
“It wasn’t my intention,” Fei Long explained. He was never aware of the fact, nor has any other trainer picked up on it.
A heavy sigh escaped the old man’s lips as he closed his eyes and opened them again. Truly this was still the same boy he knew when they first met⎯ a student who took every lesson with utmost dedication and never forgot his errors.
“Learn from your mistakes, Long Er. Don’t live in it.”
Fei Long took a deep breath as he listened. It was normal of Chong De da shi to see through him with just a brief look at his performance. Whenever something troubled him in the past, the man was the first to know. Perhaps he was also right this time; he was still that same child from decades ago.
“The way of Wing Chun is the way of life. The only place you look is forward. Only then you will find your centerline,” he added with a calm and concerning tone. The youngest son of Liu senior had always been the most talented one in the family, but even now he wasn’t able to bring out that talent. There were always walls around this child that he could not penetrate, something the boy he knew twenty-three years ago built to contain his pain and suffering in order to survive. Twenty-three years later and those walls were still intact, along with every pain and every scar he nurtured for decades.
“There are things you must learn to leave behind, or sooner or later you will lose something that is closest to your heart,” he added before turning around to walk away. “Until then, you are wasting my time.”
It was the first time Wong had seen someone walked out on his master that way. And all Fei Long did was stand quietly in front of the training equipment, as if he too was a lifeless piece of wood. He wanted to say something to wake his master from his thoughts, but decided it wasn’t his place to interrupt. Perhaps it was what his master needed⎯ silence, and time to allow those conversations to sink in.
The schedule for the rest of his master’s day was packed with meetings and business events that even Wong found exhausting. Just reading the two-paged list of things that required Liu Fei Long’s presence left him spent. As always, the head of Baishe went through it with unfailing dedication, never showing a hint of fatigue in public. Even when he was riding in his own limousine at the end of the day, the image Wong saw in the rearview mirror was that of a man sitting with his back perfectly straight and his chin held high, as if that was another place he must conceal all his weaknesses, be it physically or emotionally.
Fei Long closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, one that wouldn’t be noticed unless one was paying close attention. Despite his unaffected appearance, he was exhausted enough to sleep for a week, except sleeping was something he could hardly control himself to get enough. For the past three weeks he would wake up in the middle of the night feeling suffocated, and then it was impossible for him to go back to sleep again. There was also the constant headache, which came and went several times a day, that was making him more exhausted. He knew he needed a break, but at that moment, no matter where he went, he felt tired and somewhat…caged.
“Laoban,” Wong couldn’t help but asked the inappropriate question. “Are you all right?”
“I’m just tired,” Fei Long opened his eyes again and admitted, still trying his best not to show it in his expression.
“Is there anywhere you would like to go?” Wong asked, hoping that perhaps there was a place⎯ a beach or a park⎯ where his master could relieve some stress. It was the least he could do.
Fei Long thought for a moment, surprised that despite his efforts to conceal his state of mind, his relatively new bodyguard still somehow noticed it.
“A place I’d like to go,” Fei Long repeated with a sarcastic smile. He wondered if there had ever been one. Ever since he could remember, there were places he was required to be and things he had to do. Where he wanted to go was a question he couldn’t answer with certainty. “Have I ever wanted to be anywhere, Wong?”
“No, Laoban,” Wong replied after a brief moment of recollection. “But there must be a place that makes you smile.”
A place that makes me smile, Fei Long thought. The answer to that question wasn’t a place, it was a person⎯ one that had already gone too far out of his reach.
But then again…
“Perhaps there is a place you can take me.”
***
Fei Long paused in front of the building’s entrance and looked up at the sky; it was getting dark. His meetings had turned out to be much longer than he’d expected. And while he knew with his fatigue he should head back to Baishe to rest, however, the only place that could have put his mind at ease wasn’t home. It was there, in the penthouse at the very top of this building.
He stepped into the private elevator and punched in the security code his fingers knew without thinking. But,the screen notified him that the code had been invalid. Confused, he punched in the numbers again and again, until it became apparent that something must have gone wrong.
He reached for the phone in his suit’s jacket and dialed the one man who would be able to answer his question⎯ the one he was still allowed to call.
“Alexei,” he said as the call was picked up. “I can’t get into the penthouse.”
There was a brief silence from the other end of the line before a heavy sigh was heard⎯ a sigh that indicated the man had full knowledge of the situation, but the explanation was simply difficult to utter.
“I can’t let you in,” Alexei answered, the usual playfulness missing from his tone.
Fei Long paused for a few seconds at the response he didn’t expect to hear. At that point, his exhausted state of mind couldn’t make out the true meaning behind those words. “…He asked you to change the code?”
“No,” Alexei replied half-heartedly. He didn’t know how to deliver the news he’d been keeping for weeks. Even to someone like him, the situation wasn’t easy to explain, especially when he knew Fei Long would take it badly, whether or not it was his brother’s intention. “It’s been sold.”
He didn’t know how long he stood there unconsciously holding his breath, or how long it took for him to fully grasp the situation, but for the first time in his life he didn’t know how to respond. The answer was direct, right to the point and its meaning clearly understood without any explanation. Mikhail had truly made up his mind to leave it all behind and destroy all evidence of him in his life. Everything, along with the memories he’d decided to keep, with or without Mikhail’s consent.
“Fei Long,“ Alexei called. “Are you still there?”
“… to who?” he asked in almost a whisper, clenching his teeth as he felt his lungs constricted. The headache he thought had gone away that morning returned, with an intensity that felt like he was being struck by lightning.
Alexei sighed again, this time with obvious frustration loud enough to be heard over the phone. “Don’t even think about it. He’s going to kill me.”
“I have every right to buy it and you know this, Alexei,” Fei Long demanded with anger rising in his tone. He knew he was taking it out on Alexei, who probably had no choice in the matter, but at that point the pain in his head prevented him from making any logical judgment. He no longer possessed the strength to hold anything back.
“For god’s sake, Fei Long, just let it go,” Alexei stood his ground. Whatever Fei Long thought he was doing wasn’t going to help. It would only make things worse for the two of them and he refused to be the one stuck in the middle of this mess. “I really can’t help you.”
The connection was cut from the other end, and Fei Long found himself hurling the phone at the wall, shattering it into pieces. Broken, just like everything else in his life.
He stepped out of the building in an attempt to leave the place he was no longer allowed to enter, feeling a mixture of anger and hopelessness. Before crossing the street, he turned and looked up at the penthouse that had never been his home, but his refuge⎯ somewhere he could go whenever things were too troublesome to handle. Up there, in that penthouse, contained things he wouldn’t let anyone else touch or remove, places he refused to see anyone else occupy, and memories he would never let go. And now that this place, too, had slipped through his fingers, the world seemed to have closed down upon him on every side. And once more, he was back in the small, dark prison cell he had locked himself in seven years ago, only this time it was without his consent.
Fei Long looked up at the sky again as a drop of water landed on his cheek. It began with one drop, then two, before the whole sky seemed to have fallen upon him together with the cold, and heavy rain that pricked his skin like a thousand needles. He remembered such a rain, how it felt back then on his face, and how it tasted mixed with his own tears. Only now he had no more tears left to shed, and there was no Asami to envelope him with his warmth and carry him out of this darkness. This time he would be left here, on the side of the road, where his parents had intended him to be⎯ a place deserving of a child whose existence marks the evidence of a shameful and regrettable act.
He didn’t know how long he stood there in the rain, or how long he’d intended to stay, but the next thing he knew, he was interrupted by the sound of a powerful engine that stopped just a few steps from him.
The bright yellow door of the Murcielago flung open to reveal the driver inside. Fei Long paused for a few seconds before smiling at himself in self-pity. He had to be one of the biggest fools of all to even think that the man inside might just be Mikhail.
“Get your ass in the car. I’m not going out there to get you,” Alexei said in frustration. He had a hunch Fei Long would still be here, but not in the middle of the rain, soaked from head to toe. It was pure coincidence that he happened to be in Hong Kong that day that he was able to be there so readily.
Fei Long took a deep breath, and sighed as he thought how ironic it was that the man who turned out to be his savior this time was Alexei Arbatov. He stepped into the car he’d been in countless times, only the person driving it was someone else. The car smelled different inside with a hint of tobacco that was never present before. Mikhail would never smoke in his Lamborghini. It was who he was. The man always took care of the things he loved, down to the very tiny details. And to the things he doesn’t, he would never lift a finger.
“Here,” Alexei said as he took off his jacket and tossed it into the long haired man’s lap.
Fei Long looked at the man behind the wheel, surprised at the gesture of compassion never seen before in the younger son of the Arbatov family, and returned the jacket. “Forget it. The thought of you having some decency freaks me out.”
“Decency? You must be hallucinating to think I have any,” Alexei replied, rolling his eyes at the implication and tossed the jacket back where it was the first time. “You’re dripping all over the seat. And buckle up. I’m taking you home before you get ill and die on me.”
Leaning back on the leather seat, Fei Long ignored the garment on his lap and closed his eyes, hoping the throbbing pain in his head would lessen and his exhausted state would improve. “I don’t want to go home.”
“Ok, your Highness. Where to?”
“Anywhere,” Fei Long replied, turning his head away to look out the window. He was too tired and too cold to think. But the last thing he wanted to do was go back to Baishe in that state, and worry Tao and his subordinates anymore than he already had in the past few weeks.
“Be careful, Liu Laoban. ‘Anywhere’ in my dictionary means on my bed in my hotel room.”
Under normal circumstances, the dragon would have lashed back at him somehow for the suggestion. But that day the man looked as though he no longer cared. And even though he would usually jump at the opportunity and take advantage of the situation, the look on that flawless face somehow gave him his long lost conscience.
“I don’t give a damn, Alexei,” Fei Long said with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to think or care about anything anymore. There was nothing Alexei could do to damage the situation he was in more than it already was. All that was left within his was this void he didn’t know how to fill. “What do I have to lose?”
The last sentence, coupled with the expression on that pretty face, made Alexei sigh in defeat. He didn’t know how Mikhail had put up with it, this side of Fei Long that could turn the world into one unbearable place whenever something wounded him deeply. He’d always disliked people who dwelled in their pain rather than putting it behind them and moving on. But oddly enough, every once in a while he would still find himself right here, fixated, and unable to look away from this man.
“What are you doing?” Fei Long looked up and asked as Alexei turned the car around and entered the building’s parking lot.
“Taking you up to that damn penthouse.”
***
The elevator door opened, revealing the living room’s entrance just as it was in his memory. Fei Long stood still in the elevator for a few seconds as the scent of musky aftershave reached his nose⎯ the scent he had often tried to duplicate and failed many times before. They say perfumes smell different on each person. By then he knew, it wasn’t the fragrance of aftershave that he missed, it was the smell of it on Mikhail’s skin, the smell that still lingered in this room.
“I thought you said it’s been sold,” Fei Long asked as he stepped out of the elevator and noticed everything was still in its place, from the rows of liqueur at the bar, the unfinished jar of biscotti by the espresso machine, down to the pair of black Egyptian cotton slippers left by the door. It was as though Mikhail was still living there and had left just minutes ago.
“It has. But the new owner has yet to move in, and…” Alexei paused as he thought of the right way to explain. But the one he thought needed an explanation, however, seemed to understand it readily.
“He didn’t want to keep any of this, did he?” Fei Long said as he stood in front of the black lambskin leather jacket hung by the door, the one Mikhail wore the last time they were together. He reached for the inside pocket and found that the case of Treasurer Black was still there, along with the sterling silver lighter where his fingerprints still showed.
The obvious truth needed no confirmation, and so Alexei stood there quietly, watching the elegant fingers pick up a roll of cigarette and place it between his lips, before he lit it with Mikhail’s lighter. The expression on that beautiful face was hard to interpret. He wasn’t sure if Fei Long was enjoying dwelling in this room full of history, or if that was a spiteful smile he had on his face whenever his eyes caught a glimpse of something in that room.
“Why don’t you go take a shower while I go get us something for dinner,” Alexei said and walked back to the elevator without waiting for a response. The truth was, he simply needed to get out of that room.
You stupid bastard, Alexei cursed quietly at himself as the door closed. Was that butterflies in his stomach back there? He still didn’t know why he’d decided to cut short his meeting just to be here after that phone conversation. He didn’t know why, having already taken this man, twice to be exact, he still found himself overcome by desire every time he was in Fei Long’s presence. There had never been anyone in his life who could make him do things against his will quite like the head of Baishe. And should all this qualify as the unconceivable circumstance that he may have actually fallen for someone, why does it have to be this man, of all people, who happen to be his brother’s love of his life?
The elevator door opened again, prompting Alexei to close his eyes and quickly brush aside the thoughts in his head. He was sure whatever he felt was just sexual desire, and that he simply hadn’t had enough of the exquisite dragon. Fei Long was, after all, someone beyond extraordinary.
He returned to the penthouse again later that evening with dinner, only to find the living room quiet and empty. At first he felt a kind of relief that Fei Long may have left the place, but then he noticed that his shoes were still there, by the door.
“Fei Long?” Alexei called as he entered the bedroom and paused at the sight of the man lying on the bed. Taking a few steps forward, Alexei found himself holding his breath as he stood over the unconscious body covered to the waist by the plush, down duvet. Fei Long was sleeping on his side in the black silk robe that was left there before Mikhail had put it out on the market. Unconsciously, he reached out to push away the still partially wet long hair that laid its length against the flawless face, and felt another strange sensation in his stomach the moment his fingertips touched the silky, smooth skin. For some reason, every little thing about Fei Long seemed to have an affect on him, from the small amount of skin of his neck that showed through the strands of ebony hair, the partially exposed collarbone that moved as he breathed, to the outline of a perfectly built body covered by the thin sheet of slippery black silk. The man lying on his brother’s bed was, to him, a temptation sent by the Devil - one he knew would send him to the deepest layer of hell should he succumb to it.
The thought made him hesitate as his hand hovered over the belt of the silk robe. Just one tug, and this temptation would have been his, right here, right now. To him, self-control had never been one of his virtues. But why did he hesitate?
Just then, his eyes caught a glimpse of something the Baishe leader held in his arms⎯ a jacket that he had seen many times before. It seemed Fei Long had fallen asleep with Mikhail’s jacket, clinging to it as though it had been the man in the flesh.
He drew back his hand and clenched it into a tight fist. The sight somehow put an end to his craving. Even then, when Fei Long was lying there defenseless and exposed, and Mikhail had placed himself out of the picture, there seemed to be no more space for him in between the two. Still, it was beyond his comprehension why he suddenly lost the appetite when all he wanted from this man was sex.
“Alexei,” Fei Long called as he reached for the sleeve of other man’s shirt. He had been awake ever since Alexei entered the room but he was too exhausted to care. He knew exactly what Alexei wanted from him, but now, there was something he wanted from Alexei, no matter the cost. “I’ll sleep with you if you help me get it back.”
Alexei stood in complete silence for a moment, staring into those amethyst eyes as those words, for strange reasons, cut him like a knife. The truth was, he would have jumped at the offer had there been the slightest look of uncertainty on that face, or a hint that such an act would have some effect on his emotions. But despite the weakened state the man was in, the only thing those eyes conveyed was unshakable determination. There wasn’t a shred of desire in them other than the desire to take back the place belonging to another man. Fei Long was offering himself as payment with no strings attached, simply because the man had no intention to give him anything beyond sex. It wasn’t until that day that he realized how cold and heartless Fei Long could be, despite all the affection the man had for his brother.
“I know you probably find me despicable for what I’ve done, but if you think insulting me this way would get you any closer to your goal, think again,” Alexei said, his green eyes flashed with anger as he spoke. “You can sleep here, but get out before noon.”
Fei Long closed his eyes as he sat on the bed with arms wrapped tight around his legs and his face buried underneath the curtain of his hair.
“There must be a place that makes you smile,” Wong said. The truth was, there seemed to be nowhere else he could go that wouldn’t make him feel suffocated. Here in this room where he once laughed and cried freely because Mikhail had been the only one to allow him to was the only remaining light in the darkness that surrounded him. It was the only thing he had left that he didn’t want to lose, the only thing he had left to hold on to.
“Father,” he murmured in almost a whisper. “Please… tell me what to do.”
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*I need to explain this since it confused my beta *hugs* and it was my fault for not clarifying it. I had he pleasure of being assisted by a Hong Kong fan butterflysb who kindly named Fei’s kung fu instructor for me as Ma Chong De (Ma = family name, Chong = lofty, high, esteemed, noble, sublime, saintly,"De" = virtue.) We talked about how he should be called. She suggested that ‘sifu’ (teacher) would be appropriate only when Fei was little, but now that he’s the head of Baishe, Fei should call him da shi (means maestro , Taoist or Buddhist Monk) to be respectful and also to keep his own dignity. Therefore you will see Fei call him Chong De da shi or simply da shi. As for the da shi to address Fei, she suggested that I have him call Fei ‘Fei Er ‘ to not confuse the readers, which marks their relationship as close but keeping some respect, but generally in the Chinese way he would be called “Long Er”. Being as stubborn as I am, I’ve decided I want to go with Long Er which also sounds more correct for me being in the Chinese family myself.
** the muk yan chong is this:
P.S. A lot of people suffered (by my hands) to bring you this chapter, so please comment :D
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