Chapter Eight: No One Can Control Me!

Inside an apartment in Chaofeng Community, Jinghua City, Wang Zheng stood before the mirror, scrutinizing his outfit. It was the first time in eight years he had worn such formal clothes, and he felt distinctly out of place. Still, he had to admit, the style was impeccable—after all, it had been chosen with great ‘care’ by Bai Bing. To be honest, her taste was quite impressive.

“Miss White Tiger, how do I look?” Wang Zheng walked into the living room and addressed Bai Bing, who was sipping her coffee. The roguish smile on his face clashed entirely with the shirt, tie, suit, and leather shoes he wore.

Bai Bing’s hand trembled, causing the coffee in her cup to ripple as if it were boiling, desperate to escape its prison. “White Tiger”—just a white tiger, but somehow, the way Wang Zheng said it made it sound quite different. When Bai Bing had faced hundreds of men’s strange, curious gazes on the bustling pedestrian street, she finally understood what Wang Zheng meant by “White Tiger.” Furious, she had aimed a punch at him, but his reflexes were far superior; after exchanging more than a dozen blows, she had gained no advantage and could only storm off in anger.

“Miss White Tiger, you picked out these clothes for me. Don’t you think they look good?” Wang Zheng stood in front of her, blocking her view of the television. His question seemed earnest, but the mischievous grin betrayed his intentions.

He couldn’t help it; the memory of Bai Bing’s mortified rage in front of that crowd was simply too amusing.

Taking a deep breath, Bai Bing threw her head back and finished her coffee in one gulp. She fixed Wang Zheng with a cold sneer. “You can try to provoke me all you want. Unless you kill me, I’ll follow you until you return to the organization and become my partner.”

“Ha, Miss White Tiger, you’re adorable when you’re angry—not at all like a sick kitten!” Wang Zheng replied, unbothered by her words, his eyes twinkling with meaning.

Bai Bing clenched her fists. Seeing that infuriating smile, she suddenly lashed out with her heel, aiming a vicious kick at his groin.

“Smack!” Wang Zheng was ready; his legs snapped shut, trapping her foot.

“I’m not allowed to lay a finger on you, but you can attack me? Miss White Tiger, you really are overbearing!” Wang Zheng looked at her, still smiling.

Bai Bing shot him a cold glare and, without warning, raised her other foot to kick at him again.

“Smack!” Wang Zheng caught her ankle firmly in his left hand, while his right hand stroked her calf idly. “If I don’t let you, you’ll never beat me.”

Bai Bing struggled to free her foot, but she couldn’t break Wang Zheng’s grip. Just as his hand was about to reach her thigh, she slipped her other foot out of her high heel and, bracing herself with one hand on the couch, kicked at his face.

“Smack!”

Once again, Wang Zheng caught her foot.

“To think someone as icy as you would wear black, sexy underwear—how unexpected!” Wang Zheng teased, his tone mocking. Both her feet were now in his grasp, and with her knee-length skirt, nothing beneath was left to the imagination.

Seeing the cold fury in her eyes, Wang Zheng abruptly let go of her feet and sat down on the sofa beside her, looking utterly relaxed. “I told you, you’ll never get the better of me. If you keep this up, you’re just wasting your time. How old are you now—forty? Want me to set you up with someone? I think a woman like you is perfect for the captain—a self-important jerk and a despicable scoundrel, what a match! Perfect, just perfect—pah!”

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic. Do you think you’re any better?” Bai Bing retorted disdainfully.

“At least I’m not pretending to be a good person.”

“Pah!”

“Everyone else pretends to be serious, while I only pretend not to be. I used to think you were a deep, insightful woman who could see through appearances to the truth, but you’re just as shallow as the rest. Forget it. The world is muddied, and only I remain clear; everyone is drunk, and only I am sober.”

“Disgusting.”

“Thank you.”

Bai Bing fixed her gaze on Wang Zheng. In all her years, there hadn’t been a man she couldn’t handle, and yet here she was, being utterly toyed with. Not only had he taken liberties with her repeatedly, but he’d even stolen her first kiss—and called her forty!

No, she couldn’t back down. If she did, everyone in the organization would laugh at her. She’d been so confident making that pledge; she couldn’t return in disgrace. Bai Bing steeled herself.

“I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead. For a woman in black, sexy underwear, I’ll leave nothing unsaid, nothing unspoken…”

“Could you cut back on the nonsense?”

“All right, Miss White Tiger.”

Bai Bing didn’t speak immediately. She pondered for a moment, knowing Wang Zheng wouldn’t answer everything, so she chose the most important question—one that might well provoke him.

“Why did you leave National Security? Haven’t you been working so hard all these years?” She needed to understand the illness before prescribing the cure.

“I worked hard because I didn’t want to die—not in some godforsaken corner of Africa, not like the others who perished far from home, their bodies never recovered. Do you know how it feels to receive news, time and again, of another comrade’s death? It’s agony.” Wang Zheng’s smile faded, replaced by a growing sadness. Though he’d spent years in Africa, he’d never stopped thinking of his brothers and sisters. Seven of his comrades had died, and the pain of those losses was still fresh.

“So why did you come back now?” Bai Bing pressed, sensing his pain.

“You must have read my file. I started martial arts at six, fired my first gun at ten, joined National Security at thirteen, was sent to Africa at sixteen. All thanks to my stubborn, pigheaded father. Treated like a puppet, my thoughts never my own, invisible strings controlling everything I did. Why did I work so hard in Africa? Because I knew if I wasn’t strong enough, that old man would still control my life. It took me seven and a half years to earn the tattoo on my back—that’s my capital, the shears to cut those strings. Now, no one can control me. I am myself, with no one pulling the strings!” As he spoke, Wang Zheng’s voice rose, until he was nearly shouting, his words raw with anger, arrogance, and defiance—a complex, tangled mess of emotion.

“So you did all this just to escape your father’s shadow?” Bai Bing asked quietly.

Wang Zheng snorted. Gradually, his agitation faded, and after a long pause, he said softly, “I just want to do what I want. Is that so wrong?”