Hearing this, Pei Huai turned his head slightly and spun around. He recognized Port. Even though the man before him was Ci Mei’s older brother, Pei Huai still furrowed his brow with displeasure, his gaze unfriendly.
Before Pei Huai could speak, Ci Mei voiced out first: “What do you mean?”
The youth’s voice was clear and soft, still carrying an indescribable hoarseness.
Port’s gaze flickered with subtlety for a fraction of a second.
As he spoke, Ci Mei straightened up, walked a few steps toward Port, and came to a halt right in front of Pei Huai.
A trace of disgust surfaced on the youth’s pretty, delicate face. Tilting his chin up slightly, his bright, dark blue pupils, still shimmering with watery reflections, locked directly onto the man’s gaze.
His light golden hair was somewhat disheveled, with a hair ribbon tied loosely around the tips. A few strands strayed down the sides of his face, winding all the way over to drape across his collarbone.
From Port’s angle, he could precisely catch sight of the vague, hazy red marks left on the exposed skin, half-concealed by the strands of hair.
Port stared intently for a moment. When he averted his gaze, his expression grew even frostier.
Lowering his gaze to look at Ci Mei, whose striking face still bore the lingering heat of carnal passion, his attitude remained harsh, though his tone softened slightly: “I don’t have the energy to argue with you. Father is looking for you in the study—you’d better get over there quickly.”
With that, he cast a sideways glance at Pei Huai, whom Ci Mei was shielding behind him, let out a scoff, and turned to leave.
Ci Mei watched Port’s retreating back for a moment and muttered, “What a weirdo.”
Yet he still obeyed Port’s words, relying on his memories to find the study he had mentioned.
After walking for a bit, Ci Mei couldn’t help turning around to look at Pei Huai, who had been trailing behind him the entire time, his tone carrying a trace of embarrassed annoyance: “Why are you following me?”
Pei Huai raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the staircase not far ahead: “I’m going downstairs.”
Ci Mei: “”
He simply decided to ignore Pei Huai.
Standing still at the top of the stairs, Pei Huai watched Ci Mei leave without looking back, a smile welling up in his eyes. He only started down the stairs after Ci Mei rounded the corner and vanished completely from sight.
Upon reaching the study, he pushed open the door, and his first sight was Port sitting on the sofa, handling some paperwork.
Ci Mei paused slightly, turning his gaze toward Count Vieser, the elderly Count sitting in the main seat: “Father, did you want to see me about something?”
The old Count glanced at him before returning his gaze to whatever he was writing, asking, “Have you chosen a partner for the Furlan Academy’s double duel yet?”
“…Not yet.”
Seeming to have anticipated this, the old Count looked up and handed a piece of paper to Ci Mei, closely observing his expression: “I’ve picked one out for you. Have a look.”
“He’s a natural-type mage, and the most formidable one among the people we used to sponsor.”
Ci Mei’s gaze landed on the photo attached to the paper—it was Pei Huai.
He pressed his lips together, pondering how to refuse.
This plot point was supposed to be a confrontation scene between him and Pei Huai, not a team-up scene.
Ci Mei pressed the paper bearing Pei Huai’s photo against the old Count’s desk, wearing an annoyed expression: “I’ve had conflicts with him. He won’t agree.”
The old Count’s expression suddenly turned stern, and he rebuked, “I’ll make him agree. Ci Mei, this double duel is a selection personally overseen by His Majesty. You cannot let the Vieser family be dragged through the mud.”
Ci Mei froze.
Translated into plain terms, the core meaning was that he, a young master with low-tier magic, was the humiliation of the Vieser family.
They would not allow someone bearing the surname Vieser to stain that lineage with disgrace.
Ci Mei fell silent for a long moment before suddenly letting out a small laugh: “…Fine.”
“I’ll team up with Pei Huai.”