Chapter 234: Grandeur

Chapter 234: Grand Style

Lei Biao felt a lump in his chest, the anger sobering him up a bit from the alcohol's buzz.

Son of a bitch! This pretty boy actually dared to think of himself as a personal bed-warmer?! Do I need you to warm my bed?!

He was about to explode, ready to throw this arrogant little punk off his bed right then and there.

But just as he was about to make a move, he caught Cheng Ge's gaze as the guy turned his head from under the covers.

That look… was brimming with so much sincerity it was about to spill over, as if warming the boss's bed was the greatest honor and joy of his entire life.

Then, right in front of Lei Biao, he let out a big yawn, reflexively his eyes teared up.

The tears moistened his already bright eyes, making them glisten like washed obsidian, wet and shimmering, with a touch of sleepy bewilderment and innocence.

"Boss, just wait a little longer…" he said, his voice tinged with a nasal tone from the yawn. "It'll be warm soon… zzz…"

Lei Biao's angry retort was literally stuck in his throat.

He looked at that half-face buried in the soft tiger skin, and something in his heart inexplicably softened, followed by an extremely strange feeling of heat.

Son of a bitch! If only this kid were a woman! What the hell is wrong with me?!

A weird, uncomfortable feeling he couldn't even understand rose up, dispelling some of his anger.

And then… he actually held back.

Lei Biao's burly form sat stiffly on the cold carved wooden armchair.

Staring at the "cocoon" bulging on his own tiger-skin-covered bed—a symbol of his power and status—he felt a mix of emotions too complicated to put into words.

After holding it in for a long time, he finally muttered gruffly, with a hint of awkwardness he himself didn't notice: "…Damn it, hurry up! I'm sleepy as hell!"

And then this ruthless chief of Axe Ridge, a ruthless killer who wouldn't blink at murder, actually crossed his arms and sat there on the chair, glaring at that lump on the bed, waiting for it to warm his bed. Like some simpleton waiting for his wife to warm the sheets…

Wrapped in the soft, thick tiger-skin comforter, Cheng Ge felt like he was melting from pure comfort.

He had been running around all day and was exhausted, so as soon as he touched the bed, he fell into a dead sleep, letting out the faintest snores.

On the other side, Lei Biao sat stiffly on the carved wooden armchair, arms crossed, staring with his eyes like bronze bells.

Late at night, the attic was silent except for their breathing.

The booze he'd downed earlier finally hit him hard. His eyelids grew heavier, his head heavier, and he began to nod off little by little… The booze completely consumed his remaining consciousness.

Eventually, his big head lolled back against the chair, his mouth unconsciously parting a little, and he started sawing logs.

And so, in the lavish attic room of Axe Ridge's chieftain, a bizarre scene unfolded:

On the intricately carved bed covered in precious tiger skin, the newly arrived "strategist" Cheng Ge slept soundly wrapped in the blanket.

Meanwhile, in the center of the room, the formidable chief Lei Biao sat miserably hunched in a hard chair, head tilted back, mouth open, snoring like thunder, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, blindingly bright.

Lei Biao struggled awake from his hangover, his head splitting like a hammer, his nose stuffy, his breath reeking of stale booze.

He forced open his bleary eyes, his vision blurry for a moment before he could barely make out the scene in front of him.

Cheng Ge was curled up on the carved wooden armchair, which seemed too big for him, making him look even more slender.

His long black hair was loose, partially hiding his profile, spilling over his shoulders and curled knees.

His eyes were closed, long lashes casting small shadows beneath; he appeared to be sleeping deeply.

But his slightly furrowed brows and his arms unconsciously hugging himself made him look kind of pitiful.

The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of their breathing.

Seeing this, even a hardened killer who'd lived on the edge all these years couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy.

Then he silently cursed—Son of a bitch! Why the hell does he have to have a dick!

Cheng Ge stealthily opened a tiny slit of an eye to observe.

Seeing Lei Biao awake, he feigned slowly waking up, then immediately bounced off the chair.

"Boss, you're awake! You must be hungry! Wait here—I'll get you some breakfast to warm your stomach!"

Without giving Lei Biao a chance to respond, he dashed out like a shot from the room, as if afraid of being called back.

Lei Biao stared at the figure that vanished in an instant, thinking that this kid was sometimes so attentive it gave him the creeps.

Soon, just as Lei Biao was trying to stretch his stiff neck, footsteps sounded at the door.

Cheng Ge returned, carrying… three stacked large food containers.

The containers were sizable and looked seriously heavy, almost completely blocking Cheng Ge's figure.

Lei Biao stared wide-eyed at the three containers that Cheng Ge struggled to place with a loud clatter on the table, and blurted out incredulously.

"…Did you just bring the whole damn kitchen's breakfast here?!"

Cheng Ge looked momentarily taken aback, then straightened up, his tone amazingly sincere, as if it were perfectly natural.

"Boss, what are you saying? Isn't the whole stronghold yours? You're the king of Axe Ridge! We can't let anyone go hungry, especially not you!"

As he spoke, he deftly opened the containers.

A huge bowl of steaming minced meat congee, seven or eight big meat buns.

Also a plate of sliced cured meat, a pot of fall-off-the-bone rib stew.

Plus a few pastries and a pile of greasy meat pies…

Cheng Ge set out the bowls and chopsticks, his tone brimming with sincerity, starting his buttering-up routine.

"I heard that in the imperial palace in the capital, the Emperor himself has dozens or even hundreds of dishes for breakfast—now that's what I call style!"

"Our boss, you rule over a territory, you're brilliant and badass—how are you any worse off? You can't skimp on grub!"

Lei Biao: "..."

He listened to these words, looked at the breakfast before him that could easily feed five or six people, and then thought about that damn emperor's spread...

He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word of rebuttal.

He even felt... that this kid might actually have a damn good point?

Wasn't he, Lei Biao, the king of Hatchet Ridge? What was wrong with him eating and drinking a little? How could his grandeur be any less than those officials and that damn emperor holed up in their cities?

A strange, highly flattered sense of satisfaction and vanity inexplicably replaced his initial shock.

He stood there dumbly watching Cheng Ge, who was busily setting out the dishes for him, and found himself nodding along: "...Yeah, you're right."

After saying that, he himself felt a bit dazed, but looking at the table full of food and Cheng Ge's utterly reverent gaze,

that faint sense of wrongness in his heart was quickly suppressed by the thought, "I damn well deserve this."