15. A Duel of Death
Chapter fifteen
A Duel of Death
Lei
Humor laced my father’s voice. “You are answering Monique’s calls now?”
I sneered. “Why would you think it was alright to call Monique on her father’s phone?”
“Two reasons.”
Frowning, I stepped onto the balcony. A breathtaking view lay before me, yet I could not take any joy in it. “What are the two reasons?”
“First, I did not think you would be tracking her father’s phone so it seemed like an interesting way to contact you.”
Why the hell did I not consider that? I should have checked to see if anything was missing.
If I were to beat my father, I needed to be several steps ahead of him.
My frown deepened. “And the other reason?”
“How else would I have gotten in touch with Monique?”
“Do not call her again.”
“Ooo. Tell me more, son.”
“I am no longer your son—”
“A mere declaration will never erase my DNA from your blood—”
“Monique prayed for your sins like you asked her to do.”
“I assumed she would. I believe she is the type of person that makes a promise and keeps it—”
“Now that your sins are forgiven, come to me to meet your death.”
“And you think that I will allow myself to die that easily?”
“I do not care—”
“You do—”
“I want this done—”
“Yes, Lei, but as I have told you many times before, with all things must come patience and—”
“Where are you?”
“In the most obvious place, my son.”
I noted that small clue.
Was he at the hotel, right under my nose?
Or perhaps he went back to the old apartment in Glory’s Chinatown where we had lived long ago.
My father interrupted my thoughts. “How is Monique doing? Does she understand why I sent her father to heaven?”
“We did not have the time to discuss your doing the Lord’s work, due to her drowning in heartbreak in sorrow—”
“Tell her that in the garden of the heart, love is the perennial bloom, heartbreak is the winter frost, and death is the cycle of seasons—all essential for growth.”
“I am not delivering any of your fucking messages to Monique—”
“Because already you are feeling protective of her?”
I tensed. “I know what you are doing and it will not work.”
“And what am I doing, son?”
“Trying to make sense of your killing Chanel by playing matchmaker.”
“You are wrong and right at the same time.”
“What?”
“Let me explain—”
“I’m not interested in talking to you. I only came to Glory to see your death through. That is it. Die. This is the one thing you can do for me.”
His voice lowered. “So, impatient for my death?”
“You took my best friend, Romeo for no reason. Then, you killed the love of my life—”
“Your love for Chanel made you weak. The West manipulated your emotions over and over—Romeo included—”
“They did not—”
“All deals that you have made with the West were for their benefit, none were helpful for the East. All your concerns have blindly followed the West. What kind of friend would take advantage of your romantic feelings? With Chanel alive, you never saw clearly. Romeo knew this. She did too—”
“You are making things up. They loved me like family—”
“Sure, when you were kids, they both cared and loved you.”
“Do not talk about them—”
“When you all became adults and took over the thrones, the game of power began—”
“Enough—”
“And all knew, including Chanel, that to keep you constantly drooling for her and in control, was to keep the East in the West’s possession—”
“That is not what happened.” I gritted my teeth.
“The West dangled Chanel in front of you always like cheese to a mouse, making you turn left and right at their ease—”
“You did not have to kill them! I don’t care about any of that.” I trembled. “T-they’re gone. . .forever.”
“She was your biggest weakness, Lei. I tried to talk to you about it many times. I did my best to give you alternatives—”
“Alternatives? You do not get to tell me what to do with my life.”
“I do when you control the East, when you are in charge of thousands of lives—fathers, mothers, children. You were to let go of your obsession of Chanel and choose the way of the Lord—”
“Enough!”
He went silent.
“You did not call to simply ask about Monique or explain why you brutally murdered Romeo and Chanel.” My hand shook as I gripped the phone. “Why did you really call?”
“Very smart.”
A cold shiver ran through me. “Get on with it.”
He let out a long breath. “I called to discuss the plans for my death.”
I sneered. “Plans? You think I’m going to let you have some say in how you die?”
“Eight days from now, we will meet at a specified location.”
I quirked my brows. “What?”
“We will meet right before the sun sets. I have the mansion. Negotiations are being finalized now—”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why not meet now?”
“Because you know I love the number eight, and these extra days will allow me time to get all of my final wishes in order.”
“You do not get to schedule your death—”
“Why not?”
“Romeo and Chanel did not—”
“That is not my concern. Regardless, back to my guidelines, guests must wear traditional Hanfu clothing in vibrant shades of gold and blue.”
“Guests? Have you truly lost your mind?” With my free hand, I rubbed the throbbing pain at my forehead. “Are you planning a party?”
“Much more than that, son.”
“I am not your son.”
“First, we will feast in the dining hall. Have your aunts handle this part. They will know what I want—long, rosewood table, golden table settings, jade bowls, and ivory chopsticks.”
“I am not doing this.”
“Lanterns.”
“What?”
“I want many lanterns adorned with red tassels and dragon motifs hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light throughout the space. Suzi and Min will argue over the color. I do not care—”
“And I do not care either, which is why I will not be—”
“The dinner commences with a traditional tea ceremony.”
“Enough, you die when I catch you—”
“But you will never catch me, son. Have you forgotten that I have taught you everything you know?”
I lowered my hand and fisted it at my side.
“Your searching for me is an impossible mission—”
“It is not—”
“I have known you before you knew yourself, Lei. I wiped your bottom when you were a baby. Any move you will make, I will know it. Do not test this. If you do, more blood will be spilled. Spend these next days training. Go to Mount Utopia, fast, and meditate.”
I closed my eyes.
He is crazy. Do not listen to him.
My father continued, “Following the tea ceremony, the dishes should make their way to the table. Golden, crispy Peking duck, Kung Pao chicken bristling with red chili, sweet and sour pork glazed in—”
“Is this supposed to be a celebration of you ?” I kept my eyes closed, needing the darkness to calm the rising headache.
“A photographer will be there. The East must be given the visual story of this night, or you will have difficulty ruling after my death. This is to help you—”
“I do not care about the East or—”
“Once dinner is done, we fight.”
I opened my eyes. “What?”
“ We fight—you and I.”
I stiffened.
“No guns will be permitted. You must fight with Soaring Precious . I am having it delivered to you this evening.” His voice lowered. “I have always dreamed of that sword being what takes me out.”
My stomach twisted.
“Do you know the legend, Lei?”
I couldn’t even answer. The honorable finality of what he was asking clawed at my senses.
“It is believed that this splendid sword possesses an ethereal awareness, discerning the honor of those it is wielded against.”
My throat grew sore.
“If Soaring Precious finds the target to be a person of significant honor and virtue, the sword will sing a mournful whistle as the blade cuts through the flesh.”
I swallowed.
“I often wonder. . .”
I widened my eyes.
“I wonder what Soaring Precious’s final judgement of me will be when you slice my throat open.”
My vision clouded.
“Back to our fight,” He cleared his throat. “This will be a duel of Wushu, under the dimmed light of the moon, surrounded by our guests.”
I shook my head. “No one will allow this. You really think my aunts, Uncle Song, and—”
“I will talk to them.”
“This is insane.”
“Monique must be there too.”
I parted my lips. “W-why?”
“She must understand our ways.”
“There is no reason for her to understand—”
“You cannot see the possibilities of you and her, but I see it—”
“Monique is an amazing woman, but there will never be anyone else for me. When Chanel died, my future for love died too.”
“No, Lei. In the face of Chanel’s death, your new love for Monique will become a beacon. Its glow intensified by the encroaching shadows, revealing the depth and breadth of what you truly need in your life.”
“Monique is nice, but she will never take the place of Chanel—”
“On that you are correct.”
I blinked. “I am?”
“Monique will create a whole new place that is unique to her.”
I frowned.
“When our fight begins, we will bow in respect, and then begin—”
“Or I will pull out my guns and splatter your body with bullets—”
“You would not dare to dishonor me in such a way.” A deadly edge laced his voice. “Be careful, son.”
“You do not get to decide how you die—”
“We are allowed to use techniques from any Wushu style, including but not limited to Tai Chi, Shaolin, and Wing Chun.”
“You are wasting your breath—”
“Throws, joint-locks, and takedowns are permitted, but strikes to a downed opponent are forbidden. Of course. . .the fight ends when one of us dies.”
I swallowed.
“I hope I am the one to die. Since your mother passed, I have sought this death for a long time—”
“Then, just come to me and die—”
“As with anything, you must earn it. I did not simply hand you my throne, and I will not hand you my death. Do you understand?”
“I do.” I nodded. “Now, let me help you understand.”
“And what is that?”
“I will not do this.” I leaned my head to the side. “Remember. I am my father’s son. Psychotic and stubbornly determined.”
“Lei, do not fight me on this.”
“You will die well before eight days, and it will not be after a lavish feast and by a legendary sword. It will be in the middle of a dirty street or in some dingy hotel that you are currently hiding in. And it will not be a mystical blade. It will be bullets. There will be no visuals to give the East—to spawn great tales for your legacy. It will be quiet, uninspiring, and unmemorable.”
“Do not push me, Lei.”
“Or what? You will kill the love of my life?”
“There are others that you care about that could die.”
“You would not touch Duck or Chen—”
“Of course not. They are my blood, but Dima is not. In fact, I already have the perfect wig and nice yellow gown to dress his dead body in.” With that, he hung up.
What? Dima?
I shivered in fear.
You wouldn’t. . .
Thinking about my father’s next moves, I gazed out at the view in front of me.
The sun was slowly casting a warm golden glow upon the town of Glory. Soon it would be setting.
Not Dima. I cannot lose anymore. . .
A small labyrinth of bustling streets sprawled beneath me. The roads—intricately woven like a vibrant tapestry—were alive with a constant stream of vehicles and pedestrians. A melody of car horns, coupled with the laughter and chatter of people, floated up to my ears.
From this luxurious balcony, I was not merely an observer, I felt part of the vibrant energy of Glory.
Yet. . .none of that mattered.
Fuck.
Sighing, I placed Monique’s phone in my pocket, pulled out mine, and dialed Dima.
He answered before the ring could finish. “Have you completed—”
“Triple your security team and add more people to that reporter you’re sleeping with.”
Dima sighed. “The reporter’s name is Rose, and we are doing more than sleeping.”
“Do you understand what I am saying, Dima?”
“I do. I just wrote it down in my notebook.”
“Good. Now write in your notebook that my father is threatening your life.”
“Okay.” He went silent. Scribbling sounded on his end.
I raised my eyebrows. “Dima?”
“Hold on. I am still writing this down.”
I rolled my eyes. “No joking. I need you to take this very seriously.”
“I am. I told you that I made a note.”
I sighed. “Still, he wants to prove a point and he will use you as a way to get me to give him what he wants.”
“And what does Leo want?”
“A dinner party and moonlit battle between him and I.”
“Would I be invited to the party?”
“What? No. He is trying to kill you, Dima. I don’t want you anywhere near this.”
“Who is invited?”
“Why? Are you jealous of the guest list?”
“I am merely trying to understand the underlying reasoning for why Leo would want this party.”
“Oh.” I paused. “He wants my aunts, uncles, and surely all of our men there.”
“Interesting, and will this battle between him and you be documented in some way?”
“He wants a photographer there too.”
“ Very interesting.”
“Why?”
“It would be a great legend within the East, and if you win, this will possibly solidify your reign even more.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Instead of your just bringing Leo’s dead body back to the East with no real explanation of what happened, the legend will declare that Lei loved his people so much that when his father grew dark and deranged, he shed blood—”
“I am not fighting him this way, but if I did, his death would not be for the people or the East. It would be for Chanel and Romeo.”
“But it would still appear different to the East, and surely that would bring calm to Leo’s soul.” More scribbling sounded from his side. “Perhaps, Leo feels that one of his items of unfinished business is to leave you in the best, honorable place in the East.”
“He will not get his wish.”
“No?”
“I am simply going to kill him.”
“How?”
“Anyway I can.”
“And do you need my help?”
“I do.”
“What can I do, Lei?”
“Stay alive.” I shut off the phone and headed away.
Once I entered the suite, only emptiness hit me. I gazed down at the handcuffs that still lay on the ground.
No.
My nerves flared.
Where is Monique?
Fisting my hands at my sides, I battled with not yelling for her. From the bathroom, I caught the distinct twisting sound of a faucet handle.
Oh.
Raising my eyebrows, I went to the handcuffs on the floor, picked them up, and walked toward the bathroom.
Next, a burst of water hitting the shower base roared similar to the sound of a sudden downpour on a tin roof.
She’s cleaning up?
When I got to the bathroom door, I stopped.
Is she alright? Does she need anything?
I knew I should wait for her to leave the shower on her own, but. . .I had to check and make sure she was okay. It would be the only thing to calm my terror.
After Romeo and Chanel, everything felt off-kilter.
I didn’t want anyone else to die.
I turned the knob.
The door squeaked open.
Instantly, I spotted the blood-stained cookie monster top on the ground. Her jeans lay under it.
Of course. She wouldn’t want to wear her father’s blood on her anymore.
The echo of droplets intensified into a steady drumming.
I should leave.
Yet, I remained in the doorway and inch by inch rose my view to the shower.
A foggy mist spread across the shower’s glass, blurring out a clear image of Monique.
However. . .I could still make out the curvy outline of her figure, and it was an alluring silhouette within the steam.
Guilt tugged at my heart as I invaded her privacy.
Other parts of my body urged me to take off my clothes, get into the shower with Monique, and truly explore the bare curves of her body.
What are you doing? Leave.
Still, I couldn’t drag myself away.
What was back in the suite, but my trying not to sit in sorrow over Chanel? Or even worse, I would be sitting there wondering how I would catch and kill my father.
Neither option could pull me away.
Swallowing, I studied Monique’s steamy form a little longer. I could make out the curves of her breasts, the sleek line of her hips, and the way the sudsy water flowed down her body.
A grunt escaped me.
That’s enough. Go.
Dragging myself away, I quietly closed the door, backed up, and stared at it.
Why did I do that?
Sighing, I shook my head as if I could erase that moment out of the day.
Was it that Monique was having a deeper effect on me than I thought she could?
Or was I being erratic due to mourning Chanel?
Even more. . .by keeping Monique around. . .how much was I playing into my father’s plans?
Had I been a smarter man, I would have sent her off.
Unfortunately, she was the only person who had given me solace since I lost Romeo and Chanel.
Fuck my father. I am not keeping Monique due to him. I am keeping her because. . .I must.
I needed peace.
She provided it.
Meanwhile, I would protect her from my father and give her some sense of comfort too as she grieved.
That was that.
Someone knocked at the suite’s door.
What now?
Groaning, I headed that way and opened the door.
One of my men pushed a cart into the room.
A high-end porcelain teapot sat on the cart. Golden motifs had been painted on it. Each cup of the matching tea set was perfectly lined in a row, sitting on their respective saucers, mirroring the teapot’s exquisite design.
It was an audacious display of luxury.
This looks like something Aunt Min would buy.
I followed my man deeper into the suite and suspiciously eyed the items. “Where did you get this tea from?”
“The hotel, Mountain Master.” He placed the cart near the suite’s dining area. “Should I get something else?”
My aunts were tricky women.
I studied the gourmet snacks on plates etched in 24-karat gold patterns. “Are you sure this is from the hotel?”
“Yes.” The man gave a deep bow and did not raise the upper part of his body. Instead, he kept his head as low as possible.
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Mountain Master.” The man rose and hurried away.
I’m just on edge, suspecting everything and second guessing myself.
I picked up the teapot and began to pour myself a cup of tea.