Kissing Your Co-Commander For A Position Is Not Gay

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"Absolutely not."

"Do you know how horrendous that fucking statement is?"

"It's stated by the boss himself." Pei Ming smirks, waving the paper in where Xie Lian has perfectly typed and printed the agreement that which was not agreed by the two in front of him as of the moment. "Not my word, homies."

"Not your word my fucking ass, you ass." Feng Xin scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest and blatantly ignores the oozing blood out of his cheek and the man that caused it with his blindingly sharp pocket knife along with it. "You know damn you well you had a say in it. Why the fuck do you even think this is a good idea?"

Mu Qing rolls his eyes with what seems to be a mixture of indignation and unwilling amusement. He's perfectly aware of his stab wound on his arm – and if it weren't for his shock and exasperation to the still being waved paper, he would've retaliated with equal force against the brunette. Who says he could have that sharp metal stick? What the hell was he even using it for?

And where can he get one?

It's a shiny thing, really. Probably the only reason why he's even eyeing it now from his peripheral vision. It's sharp and it glitters against both the artificial light and the natural sun. It glows beneath the shine of the moon and holy shit if it doesn't look ethereal. There's a chain attached to the end of it, wrapped around the brunette's wrist for security and convenience. It's about six inches long and three-eighth in width. He could see a thin leather grip for stronger grasp on where the other has lazily held it. It doesn't seem heavy.

It looks good – fuck, it even feels good when he was stabbed with it. It's smooth at first but when he actually now strains his own sense of touch, he could feel small thorn like things around the metal stick that could most likely injure the inside of one's flesh when dragged. If the metal stick was buried deeper into someone's body and if they don't bleed and die from the obvious toxins inside of it that Feng Xin purposely did not let out, they'd die from internal bleeding.

It's amazing. It screams easy death for when he needs to silence someone immediately. It's perfect for protection. It's easy to hide and easy to grip. Appearance wise, it was beautiful. It's convenient to have around, and sure, he has his capable enough pocket knife – but that metal stick? Holy shit.

He'd have to ask someone from his network to identify what that item is and where the hell Feng Xin managed to get his hands on it from because he sure as hell won't ask.

"–and besides, it falls perfectly on your field of expertise. You both would easily finish this mission with a quick slap of your intellect and strength. Don't you want to have a relaxing mission once in a while?" He blinks, frowning when he realizes he'd had been indulging with the many thoughts of that stupidly perfect metal stick and missed half of what this man whore said. Pei Ming smirks, winking, "Come on, now. It's an overseas mission! You're free to have a vacation on top of it all!"

"How good of a vacation is it really if I'm with the direct descendant of Satan?" Feng Xin jerks his thumb toward the silverette, letting the metal stick dangle from his wrist when he lets go of it. "I'd rather burn myself alive with some hellish water than from his."

Pei Ming laughs, loud and entertained. Too entertained that Mu Qing entertained the thought of ruining his voice box using the Feng Xin's metal stick. "I'll take that as a yes from you."

"Pei Ming." Said man pointedly ignores the underlying warning and turns to the man to his left.

"What say you about this? Brilliant, isn't? Not too often do we witness the collaboration of the southern unit's commanders." One corner of his lips quirk up; Mu Qing lifts an eyebrow in defiance. "Xie Lian wants to extend his gratitude to you for finishing your biggest mission yet in a span of only two years when it was estimated it won't be done in four or so."

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