Chapter 251: Charity

Chapter 251: Charity

Zhang Heita suddenly met Cheng Ge's gaze, and the moment he clearly saw his features, his expression faltered noticeably, a barely perceptible glint flickering in his eyes.

Instantly, his face beamed warmly, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly with undisguised concern.

"So this is Brother Cheng? Ah, wounded so badly, you've truly suffered!"

Cheng Ge's face was still smeared with a few patches of dried blood, making his skin appear even paler.

He looked at Zhang Heita, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His breath was weak, his voice as soft as a whisper, yet he said clearly, "Chief Zhang..."

This address of "Chief Zhang" carried no deliberate flattery, but rather a hint of unease. Coupled with his severely wounded and frail appearance, it gave Zhang Heita an inexplicable tightness in his chest.

He immediately turned his head and barked orders at the trusted subordinate next to him, his tone urgent: "What are you standing there for? Hurry up!

Quickly prepare the best, quietest room next to my courtyard, set up a few more braziers, and make it warm and cozy!

Then stew that old ginseng root I've been saving—Brother Cheng needs to build back his strength!"

This sudden burst of enthusiasm caught even Lei Biao off guard.

But he simply took it as Zhang Heita being generous and loyal, feeling even more grateful, and said repeatedly, "My good brother, words can't express my gratitude!"

As for Cheng Ge, who was lying on Lei Biao's back, he gently buried his face into Lei Biao's shoulder and neck, his hood covering most of his face, making his expression unreadable.

That evening, Zhang Heita indeed threw a grand banquet, ostensibly to welcome Lei Biao.

Inside the brightly lit assembly hall, the aroma of wine and meat filled the air, a stark contrast to the grim scene at the stockade gate earlier that day.

But beneath the bustle, tensions simmered.

During the feast, after a few bowls of strong booze, Lei Biao could no longer suppress the grief and humiliation in his heart.

With reddened eyes, he recounted in a gruff voice how Ax Ridge had fallen into a trap, how the Third Chief Xiong Meng had died tragically, how the Second Chief White Brow had betrayed them, and ultimately how the stronghold had been breached by government troops.

At the height of his emotion, he beat his chest and stamped his feet, tears glistening in his eyes—the tragic air of a hero at the end of his rope moving many present.

Zhang Heita listened, his face showing appropriate shock, anger, and sighs of regret, patting Lei Biao's shoulder comfortingly.

"Brother Lei, victory and defeat are common in war! The main thing is you're alive! I won't forget this debt, and one day we'll make it right!"

But deep in his eyes, when he looked at Lei Biao, a flicker of contempt passed through his eyes.

Lei Biao, once known as "Cleaver Axe" and who used to be his equal in status, had now fallen so low, coming to seek refuge like a beaten dog.

This stoked a sense of superiority deep within his ruthless heart.

Cheng Ge was settled into the guest room Zhang Heita had specially ordered prepared.

The room was heated by glowing charcoal braziers, and on the table sat a steaming bowl of ginseng soup along with delicate pastries.

Outside the door, a servant stood by, awaiting orders.

Cheng Ge stripped off his bloodstained and tattered outer robe, changed into clean clothes, and had his "wound" wrapped in thick, exaggerated layers of gauze.

He wolfed down some food, then lay down on the thick-fur-covered bed and slept soundly.

When Cheng Ge woke up, it was already dark. Ling Feng told him Zhang Heita was throwing a welcome banquet for Lei Biao.

Hearing this, Cheng Ge made his way toward the assembly hall where the feast was taking place.

As he approached the hall entrance, he could hear Lei Biao's hoarse voice inside, drunkenly and bitterly pouring out his grievances.

Interspersed was Zhang Heita's seemingly hearty but actually perfunctory comfort:

"Brother Lei has truly suffered this time. I never expected that old bastard Song Yunzhi to be so arrogant!

Don't worry—I've got this score to settle, and one day I'll make him pay!"

Zhang Heita then shifted his tone, becoming more serious: "But with such a major incident at Ax Ridge, it seems the authorities are really cracking down this time.

Our line of work walks a dangerous line—we need to alert the brothers at the other strongholds to be extra cautious..."

Just as his words fell, a slightly lean figure appeared silently at the hall entrance, silhouetted against the bright torchlight.

The chatter and laughter died down as everyone instinctively turned to look.

There stood Cheng Ge, his face still deathly pale, his thin frame lost in an oversized robe.

Only his bloodless face was exposed, his expression timid and bewildered as he slowly scanned the room.

Zhang Heita's hand holding his wine cup paused momentarily, his gaze locking onto Cheng Ge almost immediately.

Lei Biao also saw Cheng Ge. He immediately set down his wine bowl, standing up, drunkenly concerned.

"Fourth Brother! Why are you here? Your wounds aren't healed yet—why aren't you resting properly?"

Zhang Heita quickly chimed in, his voice unconsciously taking on a coaxing tone.

"Exactly, Brother Cheng! The banquet is too noisy, not good for your recovery.

If you need anything, just have a servant fetch it—why trouble yourself to come here?"

Cheng Ge turned slightly and gave a light nod toward Zhang Heita, his voice weak but clear.

"Thank you for your concern, Chief Zhang... I've been lying down too long. I wanted to get some air and hear some voices."

With that, he shuffled somewhat unsteadily to the empty seat beside Lei Biao and sat down carefully.

Once seated, he lowered his eyelids and didn't look at anyone else, presenting an air of quiet harmlessness.

Zhang Heita seemed to lose interest in drinking—his gaze kept drifting over to Cheng Ge sitting beside Lei Biao, making the banquet atmosphere grow subtly tense.

Cheng Ge obediently sat in his seat, eating intently.

Occasionally, a bit of oil or sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth, and he would instinctively lick it off.

Zhang Heita could hardly tear his eyes away from Cheng Ge. Watching the tip of his tongue brush over his pale lips, he felt a surge of heat in his groin, his whole body aching with desire.

His Adam's apple bobbed. Fueled by the wine, he slowly stood up, raised his wine cup, and looked around the hall, though it seemed to linger on Cheng Ge.

"Let's drink!" Zhang Heita's voice boomed, trying to cover up the slight hoarseness in his voice.

This glass of wine is to Brother Lei and Brother Cheng, who made it through that disaster, and to the bond between our Blackcloud Stockade and Axe Ridge... uh, and to the brotherhood among all of you!

From now on, you can settle down peacefully in my Blackcloud Stockade. As long as I, Zhang Heita, have a bite to eat, you'll never go without a bowl of soup!

These words sounded bold and righteous, but upon closer examination, the condescending, patronizing tone caused the muscles in Lei Biao's face to twitch sharply.

There was a time when he, Lei Biao, was a hegemon dominating one region—when did he ever need to depend on others' charity, scraping by on a "mouthful of soup" handed out by someone else?

Support the creator if you can—every bit helps!