Negative Electrode Material Chapter 2

Italian Friends

Chapter 2 Italian Friends

A flash of sword light, and a crisp ding rang out in the air.

Gao Huan flicked his wrist, the slender blade lightly parrying his opponent’s attack. The opponent was clearly impatient, pressing forward with rapid steps, the tip of the sword striking like a sudden downpour, as if forgetting that scoring in epee required patience.

Gao Huan merely retreated slightly, his gaze steady behind his mask as he watched the other man. His movements were calm and unhurried, deliberately slowing down the tempo.

Off-strip, Lorenzo and his new boyfriend were laughing too loudly, their conversation peppered with Italian. Nearby spectators couldn’t help but glance over. Lorenzo was the same age as Gao Huan, his skin always perfectly tanned. The top few buttons of his deep blue shirt were carelessly undone, revealing a mop of fluffy black curls. His boyfriend, by contrast, was pale to the point of being sickly, dressed entirely in black except for his bright platinum-blonde hair. One wore an unrestrained smile, while the other remained expressionless beneath a mix of shyness and arrogance.

With only a few seconds left on the countdown, Gao Huan sidestepped as his opponent lunged again. With a deft flick of his wrist, the tip of his blade landed squarely on the opponent’s shoulder.

The light came on.

Point!

Lorenzo raised a glass of red wine from somewhere and said with a laugh, We have to rely on our Italian influence to win beautifully! Gao Huan took off his mask. Shut up. Why is there always a glass of wine wherever you go? Is it grown onto your hand like your watch?

Having said that, his gaze swept toward the person beside Lorenzo, his tone cooling. And this is?

Oh, right! Lorenzo said quickly with a smile. This is my boyfriend, Ben. Ben, this is the Chinese prince, Huan.

Ben was smiling sheepishly, but he was still fiddling with a practice sword in his hand. Gao Huan reached out to shake his hand, his expression neutral. Nice to meet you. However, a sword is not a toy.

Ben froze for a moment, let out a soft ah, and withdrew his hand. Lorenzo raised an eyebrow and teased, Oh? You’re even protective of a sword now?

I’m protecting the wine glass in your hand, Gao Huan tossed back. Before Lorenzo could roll his eyes, Gao Huan turned and headed for the locker room.

Because he had plans with Lorenzo, Gao Huan hadn’t asked his driver to wait. After changing, the three of them left the fencing club. The sky was overcast, and the streetlights had just flickered on. Gao Huan slung his sword bag over his shoulder, walking at a moderate pace. Lorenzo had his arm around his boyfriend, looking quite pleased with himself.

Let’s go grab something to eat at a nearby restaurant, Lorenzo said cheerfully. My treat today. Gao Huan shot him a glance. When is it not your treat? Lorenzo spread his hands, feigning innocence. The burden of the family business.

The restaurant was small, with warm yellow lighting and wooden tables and chairs that radiated a cozy heat. Before the food even arrived, Ben couldn’t help but speak up.

He was an undergraduate fashion design student at Central Saint Martins, graduating this summer and currently preparing his final collection. He had that specific arrogance typical of art students, as if he were the sole guardian of art while everyone else was merely looking down to pick up sixpences.

We need to deconstruct, to reorganize. Clothes are meant to be worn, but more importantly, they are meant to express—

He spoke with great animation, his voice filled with passion.

So, can I wear a coat in the winter? Gao Huan suddenly interrupted. His eyes drifted casually to the plate the waiter had just set down, his tone sounding like a passing question.

Ben paused. Lorenzo reacted quickly, knowing Gao Huan was mocking Ben, and jumped in. Wear it, wear it! Wear all those coats Cold Blade bought for you!

Gao Huan was taken aback for a moment before realizing—Cold Blade referred to none other than Wang Yuan. Aside from being talkative in front of Gao Huan, Wang Yuan was a sharp blade to everyone else.

Just as the atmosphere was softening, Ben had to speak up again. If I may ask, Huan, what do you do?

Gao Huan looked up, his expression indifferent. I don’t do anything.

Babe, you saw it just now. He doesn’t do anything—he doesn’t attack aggressively, he doesn’t retreat. He just drags others into his rhythm and then stabs them to death. Instead of asking him that, you’d be better off asking what your Prince William does every day.

For over twenty years, Lorenzo had relied on his silver tongue.

By the latter half of the meal, Lorenzo had already recounted how he fell in love with Ben at first sight in a gallery, and how back in their days at the boys’ school, Gao Huan had played the hero, saving this little curly-haired Italian transfer student from the local bullies. Gao Huan remained noncommittal, laughing along and occasionally offering a biting remark. Ben gradually fell silent. Gao Huan’s detached indifference, combined with Lorenzo’s stories, made him feel an involuntary sense of awe and a desire to keep a respectful distance.