After He Mistook Me for My Twin Brother - Chapter 7

Pei Yi accompanied me into the banquet as my date.

After a round of drinks and toasts, every old fox there was still playing dumb with me. They smiled and laughed, then changed the subject whenever business came up.

I understood the message. Someone did not want me entering Bianhai.

Since they had rejected the courtesy I offered, I saw no reason to keep smiling. Welcoming me came with one set of rules; refusing me naturally came with another.

I left the room to Ninth Uncle and took Pei Yi into the small garden for a drink.

I had planned to get him drunk, fondle his hands and chest, and coax a few sweet cries of *gege* from him. Instead, several uninvited guests arrived shortly after we sat down.

“The mob must be on its last legs if they sent a cripple to run Bianhai.”

Another hurriedly said, “Shh. Don’t let Xie Yi hear. You can’t mention his leg. It’s been broken for seven or eight years, but he still draws blood whenever anyone brings it up.”

The man he warned did not believe him. “Isn’t that another baseless rumor? Before he came, everyone in Bianhai called him the mob’s Daji. They said he relied on that face to become Song Chongli’s godson and wound the man around his finger like some latter-day King Zhou.”

“He doesn’t look like much to me. Pretty, sure, but far too slutty. Who knows how many men have used him? Maybe they’ve worn that hole of his out.”

Their talk descended further below the belt, punctuated by endless filthy laughter.

I had stopped drinking. Instead, I toyed with the gun in my palm.

Only when they had laughed their fill did I rise and stroll leisurely into the light.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three shots, each shattering a man’s right leg.

Screams erupted.

When the guests came running at the sound of gunfire, my shoe was planted on the leg of the man who had called me a cripple.

I smiled. “I’ll take this leg.”

Turning to the people rushing over, I said, “Deliver it to my hotel before dawn. If it doesn’t arrive, I’ll come collect it myself.”

Ninth Uncle’s face darkened. “Xie Yi! You wouldn’t dare!”

I covered my ear and regarded him with a half smile. “Why so worked up, Ninth Uncle?”

“You’ll make me wonder whether you’re on my side—or whether you secretly colluded with Bianhai behind Song Chongli’s back.”

His expression changed sharply. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

It seemed Song Chongli truly had no one left to use. Even the carefully selected pair of eyes sent to watch me was quietly plotting for himself.

Pathetic trash.

I lifted my gaze and swept it across the people of Bianhai, smiling without warmth.

“Listen carefully. I offered you respect, and you rejected it. Now we do this the hard way.”

“I, Xie Yi, am entering Bianhai, no matter what.”

“If you expect one old man to stop me, you’ve badly underestimated me.”

I brushed the dust from my trousers, no longer interested in wasting time on them.

“Come at me with whatever you have. But I’m petty, and I hold grudges.”

“Before you act, think carefully about whether you can withstand my answer.”

Then I turned to Pei Yi. “Let’s go.”

He glanced at my right leg, which was struggling to bear my weight, silently set down his glass, and hurried after me.