Как привести домой красивого мужчину мужское проклятие

Глава 11

"Keep your voice down, or you're dead if Lucky hears you!"

With one hand tightly covering her teasing little mouth, and the other hand barely serving as a canopy in front of her head as she peered towards the kitchen, she let out a long sigh, glared at her friend who was making mumbling noises, and then reluctantly let go.

"Really?" Feng Zi excitedly leaned close to her head, gesturing wildly. "Pei Zaiyu is really Lucky's biological father?"

Biological father? Does Lucky have other fathers?

Ye Zi glared at her resentfully.

"Alas, thankfully little Lucky was born with blue eyes, otherwise..." Fengzi murmured with a mix of resentment and sigh.

"no."

"Not what?"

"He's not Lucky's father," Ye Zi said sullenly. Strange, why did saying he wasn't cause her a dull ache in her chest? Was her heart weakening, or did she secretly harbor hopes for him...?

"No? How could that be? He looks exactly like Luchy!"

“It’s different. Lucky has blue eyes, and so does his father, but… President Pei doesn’t.”

"Hmm...right." The general manager had dark eyes and black pupils.

“Also, the general manager has homosexual tendencies, while he… doesn’t,” she added, still feeling frustrated.

Homosexuality...General Manager and Vice President—

These words brought to the attention of the two women, who had been largely ignored. They exchanged a glance, then slumped back into their seats, listless and dejected.

"The usual procedure?" The implication was that they wanted to keep it confidential.

"nonsense!"

Black eyes?

A small head, which had been eavesdropping for a long time, peeked out from the kitchen. He deftly processed the thawing chicken drumsticks, a hint of interest flashing quickly in his beautiful blue eyes...

With the addition of homosexuality, the game seems to be getting more and more interesting...

He will wait and see.

※※※

"What? I don't believe it."

In the middle of the night, a startled cry, easily misinterpreted, rang out from a residence in an upscale neighborhood.

Believe it or not, it's up to you.

Staring at his disgusting old friend with a headache, Pei Zaiyu thought to himself with self-loathing that he was able to maintain his composure and not become a "glass" person because of Yang's fawning manner. He was truly amazing in his self-control.

"You know, tomboys are really..."

Putting aside his playful demeanor, Fang Weiyang, still utterly shocked, couldn't help but widen his beautiful eyes in disbelief. How could this be? The tomboy actually had such a past! So seemingly strong, she was actually incredibly delicate…

Noticing his unusual behavior, Pei Zaiyu suddenly smiled strangely, his right hand, which was rubbing his forehead, began to tap out a rhythm. He warned, "Yang, I advise you to stop using that 'nickname' for Assistant Feng, or you'll regret it."

"Why?" he glared at him fiercely.

"Some people don't like what they hear."

"Who!" Could it be him?

“Of course it is…” In contrast to Fang Weiyang’s tense and cold expression, Pei Zaiyu was relaxed. He raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly, “The person she loves most.”

“Lucky.”

Fang Weiyang revealed the answer himself, and his slightly warm heart plummeted to the bottom. He walked to the French windows, looked down at the dazzling neon lights in the night, and saw that beneath their seemingly bright appearance, they could only guard the lonely darkness, always disappearing before the light came, and then day after day, year after year, repeating the wait, with no end in sight...

Is this loneliness truly unsolvable?

He murmured, his head bowed, his lonely words sounding both confused and like a self-answer.

Seeing Yang's rare vulnerability, Pei Zaiyu felt a pang of guilt. After all, it had been almost ten years since he last saw him looking so dejected. Back then, Yang... But just thinking about how the rumors he had caused by being used by Yang might have already reached England made him curse inwardly.

Damn it, his troubles are just beginning! As for Yang's fate, consider it a small compensation for using him.

Thinking of this, a faint smile crept onto his chiseled lips again. He thought to himself that Yang shouldn't be too angry later, after all, he hadn't lied to him; he had just forgotten to add one point—

That brat named Lucky is just Fengzi's son.

As for himself, he also had people and things to deal with. Yes, he smiled and vowed, "Zi'er, prepare your heart and the rest of your life for this!"

※※※

"Damn it, they're all a bunch of good-for-nothings!"

An elderly man, around fifty years old and in good spirits, slammed his newspaper heavily onto Shimada Jiro's battered face with a cold, hard expression and a furious rage.

"Hi!"

Kneeling respectfully on the floor, Shimada's usually arrogant face showed a mixture of awe and occasional, barely suppressed pain.

"Get up."

Finally calming down, the old man glanced at him with a hint of impatience in his gray eyes and said coldly, "I heard that in addition to dislocating your right arm, he also broke four of your ribs?"

"Yes," Shimada Jiro said, struggling to his feet, his lowered face revealing a look of terror.