Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

"You—just who are you?" Wang Yanqiu was no fool. She had failed to react earlier because Yang Juehuan's sudden grab at her chest had thrown her into confusion—all she could think of was revenge, nothing else. But now she had no choice but to consider this important question.

"Who am I?" Yang Ce shook his head. "Sorry—once you've become my woman, I'll tell you."

"You—what are you going to do?" Seeing Yang Puqi closing in on her step by step, Wang Yanqiu felt a sudden stab of fear. Yes—by now Wang Yanqiu understood that she was no match for Yang Juehuan. Her killing moves had been broken so easily, and a single seemingly simple counter-pin had left her unable to move. How could such a man be simple?

"Do? Why, make good on your promise, of course." Yang Juehuan's face was stern and cold, without a trace of feeling. "Don't tell me you've forgotten our agreement."

"I—that's against the law!" Wang Yanqiu was at her wit's end, frightened to the core.

"When you were killing people, why didn't you say that was against the law?" Yang Juehuan's voice dripped with sarcasm. Of course, Yang Ce meant what Wang Yanqiu had just done, trying to kill him outright—but he was also hinting at her being a killer.

To be continued.

949. Why won't you agree?

Wang Yanqiu bit her lip and watched Yang Ce warily. She had meant to teach Yang Puqi a lesson, but now the situation had changed greatly—not only had she failed to teach Yang Ce a lesson, she was in danger of being bullied by him instead.

Yang Ce—Wang Yanqiu studied the man before her in secret, this man who made her feel so very dangerous. That thug-like smiling face had fooled her completely.

Thinking back to that rock-climbing before, to Yang Ce's agile skill, Wang Yanqiu began to regret it. What small-time thug could possess such ability? She had truly underestimated him.

But then Wang Yanqiu was confused again. If Yang Juehuan was this formidable, then that time with Zhao Ying, dealing with only two gangland robbers, how had he been wounded—with Zhao Ying even helping him apply medicine? That memory was very vivid to Wang Yanqiu.

Wang Yanqiu was confident that in her own hands, five moves at most would have put those two gangland men to death. Judging by Yang Ce's present skill, two moves was probably an overstatement—he could well have killed both with a single shot.

So why had he? Was it to deliberately conceal his strength, or for some other reason?

This Yang Cenbin made Wang Yanqiu deeply curious. She had never imagined there could be such an expert right beside her. Only, facing Yang Ce gave Wang Yanqiu an unconscious sense of familiarity, as though she had seen him somewhere before—yet it left no impression. "Get in." Yang Ce clicked the car door open with the remote and said in a low voice to Wang Yanqiu, "Don't force me to use my hands. I don't mind if you resist, but the more you resist, the rougher I'll be."

Faced with Yang Ce's naked threat, Wang Yanqiu nursed a silent hatred. For all her scheming, she had never expected Yang Ce to be a master who kept himself so thoroughly hidden. No wonder her men had been defeated by this fellow several times—she had thought her subordinates useless, but now it seemed this Yang Juehuan was truly no simple matter.

Looking at Yang Ce's cold, stern eyes, Wang Yanqiu knew she had thoroughly enraged this man today. He had let her go earlier because he surely had something important to do, and she had ruined his good work—no wonder he was so agitated.

"Let's talk, all right?" Wang Yanqiu tried one last struggle.

"Wait until you're my woman—then we'll talk about other things." Yang Juehuan's voice was still icy, utterly unmoved.

Wang Yanqiu was somewhat disheartened—clearly Yang Ce would not let her off. She quietly reached her hand toward her pocket. Unless driven to the last extremity, she would not use a gun on the mainland.

That lipstick pistol from before had gone to a fellow called "Liu Lei" she'd met in Macau. After returning to Songjiang, Wang Yanqiu had obtained another one through special channels.

"What are you feeling for?" Yang Ce glanced at Wang Yanqiu and said coldly.

"Nothing," Wang Yanqiu said, trying hard to look calm.

"Oh—looking for this, are you?" A lipstick pistol had appeared in Yang Juehuan's hand, its muzzle pointed straight at Wang Yanqiu.

"You—how did you get that?" Wang Yanqiu was aghast. She reached into her pocket and was dismayed to find the lipstick gun gone.

"I found it just now, when I had you pinned under me." Yang Ce toyed with the lipstick pistol. "Very exquisite. A pity it only holds two bullets."

Yang Ce had known back in Macau that this girl carried a gun—how could he not have taken precautions in advance? Just now, when he had pinned Wang Yanqiu beneath him, he had taken the opportunity to fish this lipstick pistol out of her pocket.

"Just who are you?" Wang Yanqiu realized she had been terribly mistaken. She had truly underestimated Yang Juehuan's ability.

"I told you—once you're my woman and you behave well, I'll tell you." Yang Moyi spoke with some impatience. "Hurry up. Don't test my patience. I don't mind killing you first and then doing some disgusting things."

Yang Ce casually fiddled with the lipstick pistol in his hand and spoke in a most wicked tone.

Wang Yanqiu felt a chill run down her spine. She could well imagine what the "disgusting things" Yang Ce meant were.

"All right, enough talk. Get in." Yang Ce, with considerable gallantry, opened the passenger door for Wang Yanqiu.

Wang Yanqiu gritted her teeth, and in the end stepped toward Yang Ce's car. She had no choice left now; looking at that smiling, devil-like face, she did not doubt for a moment that what Yang Ce had said was anything but a joke.

Of course, Yang Ce had indeed only been joking—it was just that Wang Yanqiu had bet wrong. Yang Cenbin had no great flaws, save for a soft heart, especially toward girls.

Had Wang Yanqiu at that moment dissolved into tears and thrown a thoroughly unreasonable tantrum, Yang Ce truly would have been at a loss, not knowing where to begin, and might well have softened and let her go.

But Wang Yanqiu was thinking from her own perspective. She was an assassin, and Yang Ce, in her eyes, was a terrifyingly formidable opponent. She had tried several times to put him in the ground—would Yang Ce really let her off so easily?

Wang Yanqiu thought it utterly impossible. Though she valued a girl's chastity rather highly, it was not something she could not live without. Her assassin's training from childhood had taught her that for a killer, the most important thing was staying alive—face, humiliation, none of that mattered. Only by keeping her life could she seek revenge, could she carry out new missions.

So at this moment, with no way to resist, she would simply endure. A single misstep had brought her to this pass. She had thought Yang Ce was nothing but a soft persimmon she could knead at will—but now it seemed she was the soft persimmon.

Seeing Wang Yanqiu get in, Yang Ce climbed into the driver's seat and reclined both front seats all the way back.

"There's no room for reconciliation," Wang Yanqiu made one last struggle.

"If you can't afford to lose, don't play," Yang Ce said flatly. "Consider today a lesson."

Wang Yanqiu wanted to resist, but she did not doubt for an instant that Yang Ce could subdue her again before she even tried. And repeatedly provoking him was plainly unwise—who knew what Yang Ce might do then.

Just as he had said a moment ago, he might well kill her.

Yang Ce was furious that this little wench Wang Yanqiu had no sense of proportion—wanting to teach him a lesson and ruining his fun besides. Fury rose in his heart, and without a second thought he pulled Wang Yanqiu straight into his arms.

You tempt me, you bathe in the villa, you go without a bra, you bet you'd be my lover—well, now I'll grant you your wish.