Chapter Seven: The African Lion and the Asian White Tiger!

Wang Zheng touched the T-shirt he was wearing and couldn’t help but frown. The quality was so poor that it was worlds apart from the vest he’d once owned, made from the mane of an African lion.

“How is it? Does the outfit fit?” Bai Bing asked, carrying breakfast to the table while watching Wang Zheng’s uncomfortable expression.

“I won’t even mention the clothes, but the underwear is way too small. Are you looking down on me?” Wang Zheng complained, feeling distinctly constricted below.

“Shut up! The fact that I, a woman, went out to buy men’s underwear is already impressive. Did you expect me to stand in the store, waving pairs of men’s briefs around under everyone’s gaze, picking and choosing?” Bai Bing retorted sharply, a faint blush coloring her usually icy cheeks.

So this woman did know how to be embarrassed after all—he hadn’t seen that coming.

“You talk so boldly, but when it comes to action, you shrink back? I thought you were a woman who matched words with deeds, I must have overestimated you,” Wang Zheng laughed. “One day, I’ll buy you some underwear. Then you’ll see what real boldness looks like—a 24-karat pure man!”

“Get lost!”

Nothing pleased Wang Zheng more than getting under Bai Bing’s skin.

He sat down at the table, where breakfast was waiting: thin porridge, cold side dishes, and fried eggs. It was a hearty spread. As he looked around the cozy house, and watched Bai Bing still bustling about in the kitchen, a sudden thought struck him:

Having a housekeeper is wonderful.

“Why isn’t there lobster for breakfast?” Wang Zheng called out.

“What, did you have lobster for breakfast every day in Africa?” Bai Bing emerged from the kitchen with two plates of side dishes and sat across from him.

“Of course not! That’s exactly why I’m asking—because I couldn’t get it in Africa!” Wang Zheng replied gruffly, as if he’d already accepted Bai Bing as his personal housekeeper, to order around as he pleased.

“Eat it or don’t,” Bai Bing said, her patience clearly wearing thin. If she hadn’t promised the Director she’d look after him, she’d have loved to tear off that repulsive mask he wore.

“Wow! Yesterday you were trailing after me, paying my bills, and dragging me home for the night. And now, just one night later, you’re pretending we’re strangers?” Wang Zheng taunted, his voice thick with mockery. Just as Bai Bing clenched her fists, he suddenly dropped the act, put on a look of heartbreak, and pointed at her delicately, muttering, “Women—none of them are any good.”

Bang!

Bai Bing’s fist slammed into the table, snapping her chopsticks in half. She slowly raised her head, her eyes cold and venomous, locking on Wang Zheng’s face. From her enticing, blood-red lips came a voice as cold as ice.

“Do you want to die?”

Wang Zheng put down his chopsticks, lifted his hips, and leaned in close, his expression sincere. “Could you help me with that?”

Hmph! Wang Zheng sneered silently. His goal was simple: provoke Bai Bing until she exploded with rage and left of her own accord—then he’d be rid of this tail. Working with a tail was incredibly inconvenient.

Bai Bing’s piercing gaze didn’t waver, but then her frosty face suddenly softened into a smile. She pushed Wang Zheng gently back into his seat, served him a fried egg with exaggerated courtesy, and said with a friendly smile, “Eat up. Tonight, I’ll treat you to lobster.”

***

Wang Zheng was stunned. This woman’s mood swings were so sudden, the contrast so stark. A moment ago, she looked ready to devour him; now, she was all sweetness and light.

Could she have realized what he was up to? Wang Zheng mused. This woman was no ordinary character. Getting rid of her would require patience.

***

It was hard to imagine what it felt like to have a woman as cold as Bai Bing trailing after you with a smile all day, attentively helping you pick out clothes, swiping her card without hesitation, and constantly showering you with compliments. Her care and attentiveness were so apparent that men on the street were practically drooling with envy.

No one hits a smiling face. Faced with such a Bai Bing, Wang Zheng found no opportunity to escape.

A warrior, a female warrior, a beautiful warrior!

“Do you need anything else? Should we buy a few more outfits, so you can change more often? Don’t worry about saving me money. I saw a blue plaid tie in that store we passed—it would really suit you. And that black suit. By the way, do you want to get a haircut? I know an excellent stylist…” Bai Bing chattered on, walking beside Wang Zheng down the bustling commercial street, her arms full of shopping bags. Perhaps women really were born with stronger legs; despite all this walking, Bai Bing showed no sign of fatigue. In fact, her energy only grew, oblivious to the curious looks from passersby.

But why should Bai Bing care what people thought? It was Wang Zheng who should have been embarrassed. All along the way, Bai Bing’s tireless fussing and shopping made Wang Zheng feel like a pampered gigolo who had landed himself a rich mistress. The disdainful glances from sales staff and passersby gave him a murderous urge.

Wait a minute!

Wang Zheng stopped abruptly, trying to clear his mind. He closed his eyes, blocking out the noise around him, focusing on Bai Bing’s abnormal behavior today.

Could it be… she was doing this on purpose, retaliating for what happened at breakfast?

That morning, he’d used blunt words to provoke her, hoping to sour her mood and drive her away. Now, she was using excessive “thoughtfulness” and the scrutiny of others to attack his pride, avenging herself for breakfast.

Close call! Wang Zheng drew a sharp breath. This woman was ruthless—killing without leaving a trace. What a clever strategy: killing with a borrowed knife.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Bai Bing, who was still chattering away in perfect innocence. Her performance was flawless. Was this the expression of an icy, untouchable woman? It seemed that everyone in her line of work deserved an Oscar.

For an instant, Wang Zheng thought he saw a flash of cunning in her gaze.

What’s happening to me? Am I really letting a mere woman affect my mood? Wang Zheng laughed at himself.

“What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Heatstroke, maybe? Should we rest for a bit…?” Bai Bing asked, her performance worthy of an Academy Award.

Wang Zheng smiled inwardly. Suddenly, he did something that caught Bai Bing completely off guard.

He reached out, pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her soft, full chest against his solid torso. One hand circled her slender waist, the other cradled her head—and he kissed her fiercely on her luscious lips.

***

Bai Bing’s body went rigid, the shopping bags tumbling from her grasp. Wang Zheng chuckled inwardly at her stunned expression, savouring her lips with gentle bites and teasing caresses.

Suddenly, a delicate hand shot toward his face—a slap—but he caught her wrist mid-air and held it firmly. Refusing to yield, she tried to knee him below the belt, but Wang Zheng, anticipating her move, spun her around in a circle, using her as the axis. Their hands locked together, they twirled as if dancing a waltz on the street. When the “dance” ended, Bai Bing was half-leaning in his arms, while Wang Zheng, eyes closed, breathed in her scent with relish.

“Aaah!” Wang Zheng’s face twisted in pain as he looked down—Bai Bing’s high heel had come down hard on his foot, the smooth leather caving in sharply. It was as if a dagger had stabbed him, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

With her back to Wang Zheng, Bai Bing took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure and hoping her burning cheeks would cool. She didn’t need a mirror to know her face was crimson—after all, that had been her first kiss. To be precise, it was the first time she’d ever been so intimate with a man. Cold and aloof, she’d always been a goddess in the eyes of men—admired but never touched. Having trained in combat, no man had ever dared lay a hand on her.

That was, until this man came along. Last night, he’d pinned her beneath him, which had already infuriated her. And now this! At the thought, she ground her heel even harder into his poor foot.

Gritting his teeth, Wang Zheng leaned close to her ear and muttered with a forced smile, “I let you step on my foot on purpose, so you could get even. I didn’t expect you to go all out.”

“My hands were pinned by yours. What else could I do?”

“You… deadly feet!”

Bai Bing slowly lifted her foot and turned to face Wang Zheng, her previous warmth gone, her icy demeanor restored.

“If the tiger doesn’t bare its fangs, you take me for a kitten? Try laying a finger on me again, and I won’t be so polite.”

Wang Zheng lifted his injured right foot, rubbing it against his left calf to ease the pain. A warrior of a hundred tribes was not made of steel—Africa’s strongest man was still flesh and blood. Too much drink made him sick, and a stiletto could make him bleed.

When Bai Bing’s true colors reappeared and she uttered her warning, Wang Zheng’s gaze drifted from her beautiful face to her midriff, then lower, his eyes full of mischief. He asked, “Are you a White Tiger?”

“Yes,” Bai Bing replied crisply.

“What are you?”

“I’m a White Tiger.”

“Who is the White Tiger?”

“I’m the White Tiger. Are you done?” Bai Bing suddenly shouted at him. But when she saw the wicked smile and cheeky look on his face, she finally realized they were still in the middle of the street. Glancing around, she saw that time seemed to have stopped—dozens of men stood frozen, staring at her in shock.

She was a tiger, and her surname was Bai—White Tiger. What was wrong with that? Bai Bing wondered in confusion.

White Tiger?

How wonderful!