Chapter Thirty-One: The Catsuit Sniper

Liu Jingye still stepped out of the fitting room—not because he didn’t want to watch, but because assassins could be lurking nearby.

But as he emerged, he noticed the door of the fitting room across from him stood wide open, and inside, there was no one.

He swept his gaze around; people bustled to and fro, making it impossible to pinpoint a suspect.

“Persistent as a shadow,” Liu Jingye mused. “The enemy is bold enough to fire a gun in a mall. Are they a madman, or a professional killer? And hiding in the women’s fitting rooms—could the assassin be a woman? Otherwise, someone would surely have noticed.”

He began to pay particular attention to the women passing by. Many carried large handbags or even luggage—plenty big enough to conceal a gun.

But Liu Jingye was certain the killer was still nearby. The murderous presence had diminished, but he could still sense it.

He trusted his instincts in these matters; they had saved his life more than once. It was clear the enemy was intent on killing Wei Xiaorou.

As he tried to use his intuition to find the target, Wei Xiaorou emerged, wearing her new dress. The billowing hem revealed a slender, fair calf; her tall figure and striking features radiated with youthful energy and alluring charm.

“Well, does the dress look nice?” Seeing Liu Jingye staring, Wei Xiaorou felt a little embarrassed, but mostly proud.

Liu Jingye nodded dazedly. “Beautiful.”

“How beautiful?” Wei Xiaorou pressed, unwilling to settle for a perfunctory compliment—few things irked women more.

Liu Jingye swallowed, blurting out, “So beautiful I can’t help wanting to lift the hem and see what’s underneath.”

“Scoundrel!” Wei Xiaorou spat at him, her cheeks blazing red. She pointed toward the cashier. “If it’s so beautiful, you can pay for it.”

At the mention of paying, Liu Jingye instantly panicked, feigning expertise as he critiqued, “Actually, now that I look closer, this dress doesn’t quite suit you—the flared design makes you look a bit bulky.”

“Really?” Wei Xiaorou grew anxious, checking herself in the mirror. No matter how she looked, she felt a bit plump. She changed out of the dress at once and said, “Then I won’t buy it—but I do love this style.”

Liu Jingye had been hoping for just this. He pointed at another dress on the rack. “These two are similar. You could try this one.”

Wei Xiaorou saw the style was much the same, but as soon as she touched it, she pouted. “The style is close, but the fabric is much worse.”

“Well, of course—the price is a lot lower, too,” Liu Jingye thought to himself, his sharp eyes having already spotted the tag from a distance.

Seeing her displeasure, Liu Jingye coaxed, “The material may be inferior, but on someone as tall, graceful, and stunningly beautiful as you, even the cheapest dress would gain value.”

Wei Xiaorou, not fooled by his thriftiness, shot him a glare. “You think I’m some sort of value-adding machine?”

At that, Liu Jingye was momentarily speechless, while Wei Xiaorou’s face turned even redder. She ducked back into the fitting room and stayed there, too flustered to come out, the air between them thick with a tension that briefly eclipsed the sense of danger.

As they wandered through the shops, they looked more and more like a couple—an engaged one at that. The man no longer needed to buy affection, and the woman no longer bothered to hide her true self. One was a miser; the other, quick-tempered. Oddly enough, it suited them.

“Getting together first, falling in love after—it isn’t a bad feeling,” Liu Jingye thought with satisfaction. “It skips all the pretense and hollow sweet talk. I won’t let that damned Huangchao or those blind assassins ruin this.”

His expression hardened, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s, sweeping the surroundings. An aura of invincibility rose from him, and the murderous energy he’d forged in blood and battle surged forth.

Whether it was Liu Jingye’s flattery or the idea of being a “value-adding machine,” Wei Xiaorou ultimately decided to buy the cheaper dress and wear it out.

Time slipped by as they strolled, and by the time they left the mall, night had fallen. Wei Xiaorou seemed to have forgotten the danger, chattering away, her true nature gradually revealing itself. Liu Jingye summed her up: “She’s a chatterbox, loves beauty and spending, loses her temper when things don’t go her way, but she’s kind-hearted, strong-willed, and somehow still needs someone to protect her—a silly girl.”

Yet the sensation of being stalked and watched lingered; that faint murderous intent still hovered in the air. Liu Jingye was done playing defense. It was time to retaliate.

He led Wei Xiaorou along, seemingly aimless, but in fact searching for the right spot. Eventually, he took her into the central park.

At the park’s center was a fountain, ringed by fitness enthusiasts and elderly women dancing together, the scene lively and boisterous.

Liu Jingye and Wei Xiaorou sat beside the fountain, the main jet shaped like a tower, water cascading down like a waterfall—making it impossible to see what was happening from behind.

On either side of the pool, two smaller tower fountains mirrored the main one, their water screens creating blind spots to the left, right, and rear. Even the best sniper would find it impossible to get a clear shot.

Only the front remained exposed, and there, fifty meters away, stood a six-story building—apparently the park’s themed restaurant.

Liu Jingye and Wei Xiaorou sat facing the restaurant, surrounded by other couples, all lost in their own worlds despite the crowd.

Perhaps moved by the romantic atmosphere, or perhaps wanting to savor what might be her last moments, Wei Xiaorou suddenly wrapped her arms around Liu Jingye and kissed him.

Meanwhile, atop the restaurant’s roof fifty meters away, a cold gleam sliced through the night—a deathly gaze fixed upon Wei Xiaorou.

A shadow lay prone, a long sniper rifle aimed at Wei Xiaorou. The figure sneered, “Foolish woman, savor these last moments. Enjoy your lover’s embrace. Remember how it feels…”

A slender finger rested lightly on the trigger, lips curling in a cold smile—a cat toying with a mouse. “I thought that man was a pro, but he’s just a fool, sitting wide open like this and making himself my target. Well, I’ll send you star-crossed lovers on your way!”

The sniper crouched low, left hand supporting the rifle, right finger poised on the trigger.

In that split second, a flash of cold light sliced through the darkness—a meteor with death’s chill.

A muffled grunt followed. The assassin’s sniper rifle nearly slipped from their grasp. Blood poured from a gash the size of a mouth on the left forearm that had been supporting the weapon.

“Who’s there?” The killer was startled, fighting pain to aim the rifle leftward.

A lighter flared, lighting a cigarette. Liu Jingye strode calmly from the shadows, a serene smile on his lips. Between the fingers of his other hand, two razor-thin blades gleamed.

These were box-cutter blades—ordinary office supplies in most hands, but deadly weapons in Liu Jingye’s.

“You? But you were—” The assassin froze, instinctively glancing back at the park fountain.

There, Wei Xiaorou still appeared locked in a passionate embrace, but now it was clear—a jacket cradled in her arms, its sleeves draped over her shoulders to mimic an embrace.

“Naturally, new clothes must be worn at once, and the old ones taken off,” Liu Jingye said with a smile. He was now wearing the new clothes Wei Xiaorou had bought him, and all she held was his discarded jacket.

“You’re a poor excuse for a sniper. You see only your target, never what’s around them,” Liu Jingye offered, almost kindly.

The assassin’s teeth ground audibly. To be reprimanded by one’s enemy in such a condescending tone was an unbearable humiliation.

“But you’re cautious, I’ll give you that. Wearing sunglasses and a mask—afraid of the security cameras, right?” Liu Jingye’s manner was light, as if the sniper rifle posed no threat at all. “Still, next time you’re on a job, maybe don’t wear a tight shirt. Anyone could tell you’re a busty little vixen.”

Instinctively, the assassin glanced down at their chest, then leveled the rifle at Liu Jingye’s head with a furious glare.

Clicking his tongue, Liu Jingye remarked, “A Steyr Scout—the lightest sniper rifle there is. But in your hands, it’s nothing but a toy to me.”

“Shut up!” The assassin was now completely enraged. To be caught by a target was bad enough, but to be mocked for one’s skills—this was utter disgrace.

And that was exactly what Liu Jingye wanted—to provoke the assassin, to make them lose their composure, and to showcase his own superiority.

This wasn’t a battlefield, after all—law and order still reigned. He wasn’t willing to kill unless absolutely necessary.

Bang—the silenced rifle fired.

The assassin had finally lost patience, taking a shot at Liu Jingye in a fit of rage.

But something remarkable happened. Despite the taunts, the assassin had faith in their marksmanship—especially at a distance of barely five or six meters, a shot that should never miss.

Yet, right before her eyes, Liu Jingye simply tilted his head, and the bullet screamed past his brow, vanishing into the night without so much as grazing a single hair.