Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

After hanging up, Zheng Shaopeng let out a long, heavy breath. To be honest, he wasn't just afraid now—he could be called utterly terrified. The person he was about to face was a professional killer. The boss had already sent reliable men to his side and said they would deal with the assassin, but one can never be too careful—this was a matter of life and death. One slip, and he'd be done for.

Yet even so, Zheng Shaopeng had agreed without the slightest hesitation. Because the boss had told him to do it, he had to do it. Without the boss, there would be no Zheng Shaopeng—and certainly none of today's success.

Of course, this boss was not the owner of the Huawei Casino. At the Huawei Casino, Zheng Shaopeng was merely a hired collaborator; the casino's owner had no authority to command him.

Eight years ago, Zheng Shaopeng was nothing—just a gambler. In one game he was caught cheating on the spot, and they were about to beat him to death. Just as Zheng Shaopeng despaired, that man appeared and got him out of the fix.

That man was the boss on the other end of Zheng Shaopeng's phone. Not only did he rescue Zheng Shaopeng, but he also recognized Zheng Shaopeng's hand speed and talent at cheating and taught him many secret gambling techniques. Those tricks, of course, weren't what mattered—what mattered was the boss's unique training method, which pushed Zheng Shaopeng's hand speed to its limit and made his card-switching nothing short of miraculous.

Zheng Shaopeng didn't know the boss's true identity, nor what he did, but none of that mattered. The boss had given him a new life, given him today's wealth and glory.

It could be said that without the boss, Zheng Shaopeng would have died long ago. Even if he hadn't died, he'd still be a nobody of a small-time gambler. But now he commanded wind and rain in the gambling world; he'd enjoyed all there was to enjoy, and possessed all the material comforts he could want. A man who lives to this level has had his money's worth.

So when the boss came to Zheng Shaopeng and laid out his plan, Zheng Shaopeng decided almost without thinking to go along with it.

Zheng Shaopeng closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Success or failure would be decided tonight. Time to gamble everything.

Though Zheng Shaopeng wore a bulletproof vest, a bullet could easily strike his head—or in close-quarters combat, he'd have no way to defend himself at all. His only hope now rested on the two bodyguards beside him.

Both bodyguards had been sent by the boss, replacing the two Zheng Shaopeng originally had. The two looked ordinary, but Zheng Shaopeng knew they were anything but. How could the men around the boss be simple?

To be continued

840. A Roundabout Tail

840. A Roundabout Tail—Yang Juehuan's explanation, though it sounded funny and rather absurd, was in fact the easiest thing to accept. Quarrels between lovers were perfectly normal, and everything fell into place.

"Young man, when you're out and about, don't be too petty. Women—when it's time to yield to them, yield. It's no big deal," the taxi driver said to Yang Yanzhou as he drove.

"Mm, I know. Once she's cooled down, I'll have a good talk with her," Yang Yuting nodded. "Right now she's still furious—whatever I say, she probably won't listen."

"That's true enough." The driver agreed wholeheartedly. "All I can do is help you follow her. The rest is up to you."

Wang Yanqiu's attention was fixed entirely on the convoy ahead, and she never noticed that there was another car following her. As for her reason for tailing Wang Yanqiu, it was even more absurd: she told the cab driver that her boyfriend was in the convoy ahead, and that she was afraid he and his friends were going off to some disreputable place to fool around, so she wanted to follow them secretly and see what was really going on.

The reason was about as absurd as Yanqiu's, but the taxi driver did not doubt it in the least.

"Little sister, I'm not criticizing you, but this really won't do," the taxi driver said to Wang Yanqiu with some helplessness. "You're too strict with your boyfriend. That's not a good thing."

"Why not?" Wang Yanqiu had no boyfriend at all, but to keep up the act, she played along and asked.

"Judging by that convoy of your boyfriend and his friends, he must be a successful man," the driver said. "Men—especially successful men—always have to entertain business contacts outside. A little playacting here and there is unavoidable. Sometimes you just have to close one eye and let it pass."

Hearing this, Wang Yanqiu gave a faint, sorrowful sigh as she thought of her own origins and her own future. What kind of man would her future husband be?

A man who merely played a part on the outside would still be the better case—as long as his heart stayed with her, that would be enough. But was that even possible? To be married off to a man with whom she shared no emotional foundation at all, a man she did not like and who likewise would not like her—never mind his heart, she would probably not even see much of the man himself. At this thought, Wang Yanqiu could not help but fall silent.

The driver assumed Wang Yanqiu was mulling over what he had said. He smiled faintly and said no more; such things needed to be pondered by the person herself, and saying more was pointless.

Just as Wang Yanqiu had expected, the convoy drove in through the gates of a villa. Clearly this was also a private venue, off-limits to outsiders.

"Little miss, I can only drive you this far. This looks like private grounds—my car can't go in," the taxi driver said to Wang Yanqiu.

"All right," Wang Yanqiu said, somewhat distracted as she thought about how to make her move. She gave the driver a hundred patacas without waiting for change and got out of the car.

The taxi driver shook his head and drove away.

The taxi carrying Yang Ce stopped a few hundred meters away. "Young man, your girlfriend's gotten out of the car. I'll stop here, I won't go any closer," the driver said.

"Sure," Yang Ce nodded. "Thanks for the trouble."

"Ha, what trouble? You're my customer. You'd better think about how to talk your girlfriend around," the driver said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I know." Yang Ce got out and waved to the driver.

After the taxi drove off, the driver was still puzzling over it—what had that man looked like, anyway? How had he forgotten him in the blink of an eye? He thought back carefully for Yang Ce's distinguishing features, and the answer was: he had none.

Yang Ce did not even need to go closer. Seeing the convoy enter the villa while Wang Yanqiu stood at the gate, he understood—things here were much the same as before, with no strangers allowed in. It looked like Wang Yanqiu had come all this way for nothing again.

Yang Ce could not help but find it a little funny. Hitmen, after all, were a different matter from terrorist organizations. A terrorist group would not care whether your defenses were sound or whether outsiders were allowed in—they would just charge in with submachine guns, and if that failed, tanks and bombers. Utter brute force.

But hitmen were different. A hitman prized concealment: he had to eliminate the target while keeping his identity hidden, for otherwise, even if the job was done, he would have buried himself along with it.

Granted, Zheng Shaopeng's aim was precisely to lure Wang Yanqiu into killing him, but he could not make it too fake. Only by making her feel it was difficult would it seem all the more real.

So, per the arrangements of the boss behind the scenes, Wang Yanqiu's appetite was to be whetted a little more.

Gazing at the countless delicacies laid out at the buffet, Zheng Shaopeng had no appetite at all. To say he was not afraid would be nonsense—who was not afraid of death? But afraid as he was, he did not shrink back.