The year I was an undercover cop, to prove my loyalty, I took a bullet for the mafia boss. Somewhere along the way, I lost my memory for three years. The day I woke up and regained my senses, I barely reached my hand out before the man expertly dropped to his knees and pressed his face into my palm. He pouted pitifully: "Can you hit me a little softer today? I have a board meeting to run later." 1 I was absolutely dumbfounded. "B-b-b..." I couldn't even get the word "boss" out of my mouth. Arthur Vance lowered his eyes, gently rubbing my hand. "There are a lot of outsiders here. Save it for when we get home, okay?" Wait. Is this still the ruthless, cold-blooded mafia boss who killed without blinking an eye? My last memory of him was him pointing a gun right at my forehead, his eyes filled with pure disgust as he snarled: "Stay the hell away from me!" Back then, let alone touch him, just looking at him wrong would earn you a death glare. But now? Not only is he initiating contact, he looks like a well-trained, obedient puppy. The craziest part is that everyone else in the room is looking at us like this is a completely normal, everyday occurrence. I was so terrified I tried to yank my hand back. The man gripped it tighter, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Honey, why aren't you hitting me?" "You still have your eye on that pretty boy, don't you?" "I'll have him shipped off to work in a diamond mine in Africa so he gets tanned." Unreasonable and petty. But Arthur Vance was a man of his word. I gritted my teeth, raised my other hand, and slapped him across the face. Smack! The sound echoed crisply. The man didn't dodge an inch. That beautiful face instantly turned red on one side. My hand was shaking. I was terrified that the next second, he was going to pull the gun from his waistband and blow my brains out. Instead, the man touched his cheek, his lips quivering slightly. "That hurts." What am I supposed to do about it?! You literally asked me to hit you! Do you want me to blow on it for you too?! Just as the thought crossed my mind... Arthur dropped to both knees, pressed his face into my palm, and nuzzled it. "Honey, blow on it." Oh my god! Just end me now! 2 Three years ago, I was sent undercover. But I got off to a terrible start. I couldn't even get close to Arthur Vance's inner circle. He walked around with a massive entourage of bodyguards everywhere he went. I had no choice but to go undercover as a worker in a high-end nightclub he owned. I finally managed to stake out a night when he actually showed up. Desperate for a quick promotion, I insisted on putting on a show by opening a beer bottle with my bare hands. The bottle cap flew off and hit Arthur right on the nose. The beer sprayed everywhere, completely drenching his bespoke tailored suit. That night, I truly learned what a genuinely terrifying death glare looked like. As punishment, I was assigned to guard the bathroom doors. I guarded those doors for an entire month. Finally, I caught Arthur coming to the club again. He was here to discuss business this time. My superiors told me he was likely dealing in illegal trades lately. They ordered me to keep a very close eye on him. I begged the club madam for a chance to get in the room. The madam looked at me with an incredibly complicated expression. "Even though you're gorgeous and have a great body... but—" She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "The boss isn't into guys!" Oh, right. I always had a short pixie cut. When I applied for the job, I heard all the pretty girls had to have long hair. So, with no other option, I just lied and said I was a guy. I stomped my foot in frustration. "What if he actually is into guys?!" "Look at him! He comes here and never touches any of the girls. He's always alone!" The madam looked like she had a sudden epiphany, completely convinced by my logic. She found me a sheer, see-through outfit. I waved my hands frantically. No way. I have a large chest. I'd be exposed instantly. I heard these wealthy, high-status men usually have very specific, weird kinks. So I asked for a school uniform. I didn't wear a drop of makeup, just put on some strawberry-flavored chapstick. When I pushed the door open and walked in, the men inside simultaneously set down their drinks. A kind-looking older man warned me, "Kid, I think you have the wrong room." I looked at Arthur, whose face was completely blank, and timidly called out: "Mister." The man frowned. "You've got the wrong person." I ran over, pretending to trip over an empty bottle on the floor. Executed a flawless sliding kneel. My face almost crashed directly into Arthur's crotch. So awkward. The man reached out a finger and poked my forehead, pushing me back. "Where exactly are your eyes looking?" I looked up, massaging his leg. "Mister, please, take me in." The tears came right on cue. "My dad is a gambling addict, he lost all our money. My mom is deathly ill, and my younger sister is just a kid. We're about to starve." Arthur toyed with his silver lighter, his face completely unmoved. "I've heard this exact story no less than ten times." So what? This time, no matter what he said, I wasn't leaving. I was going to take back everything I had lost! One of his subordinates walked in. "Boss, Mr. Shaw is here." Warning bells went off in my head. My superiors told me to pay special attention to this guy. Arthur's face grew slightly stern. He stood up and stepped around me. "Get out." No. "Then promise you'll take me in." The man's eyes, dark and deep, stared at me. "Are you an adult?" I nodded. He looked away, scoffing. "That's unfortunate. I don't like adults." ??? I knew it. He really is a massive pervert. Before I could say anything else, that Mr. Shaw walked in. His eyes darted between me and Arthur with a playful smirk. "I didn't realize Boss Vance was into this kind of thing. You should have said something! I have plenty of these at my place." Arthur pulled out his gun, pressed the cold barrel directly against my forehead, his eyes freezing. "Stay the hell away from me." I hung around outside the door, acting completely shady. Constantly observing the situation inside. Suddenly, an argument erupted. I followed Arthur's subordinates and barged in. I saw that Mr. Shaw holding his bleeding forehead, pointing a gun right at Arthur: "Go to hell!" Right as he was about to pull the trigger— In that fraction of a second, I didn't think at all. I just purely didn't want Arthur to die that easily. I sprinted over incredibly fast. In the exact moment I tackled the man to the ground, the gunshot rang out. In my final moment of consciousness... I heard Arthur's furiously angry voice: "Are you a fucking idiot?!" If I hadn't pushed him out of the way, that bullet would have gone straight through his skull. Miraculously, I survived. But... I lost my memory. After losing my memory, my personality completely changed. According to the summaries of bystanders: A total pervert. I'd hug Arthur and demand kisses over the slightest disagreement. I'd barge into the bathroom while he was showering and try to measure his "dimensions" with my hands. Even more absurdly, I demanded to sleep on his abs every single night. A total social butterfly. When we were out, the identity I claimed was "Arthur Vance's Ancestor." I loved hugging Arthur and calling him "Hubby" regardless of the setting or who was watching. Relying entirely on how much he spoiled me, I constantly stirred up trouble wherever we went. Also, extremely violent. I slapped Arthur at the drop of a hat. When I went overboard, I even used restraints. The basement of the Vance mansion was entirely filled with tools I had prepared specifically for Arthur. 3 I slammed my hand on the table and stood up. "Absolute bullshit!" Ben's entire body violently shuddered. "M-m-m-ma'am, it's absolutely true. You really did act like that." He was the personal bodyguard Arthur had assigned to me. He was a great guy, no real flaws, except he stuttered a lot. Honestly, I already knew all the things I had done during the years I had amnesia. But I just couldn't accept it. I kept trying to hypnotize myself into believing it was all a fever dream. I quietly asked Ben: "When I hit Arthur... did he not fight back at all?" Ben picked at his fingers. He was recalling how, every single time the Madam hit the Boss, not only did the Boss not get angry, but he looked like a submissive little housewife, rubbing her hand and asking if she wanted to go another round. "F-f-f..." "F-f-f..." Fought back? That can't be right. If he fought back, how do I still have all ten of my fingers? "F-for the record, it was useless. You just hit him even harder." Ben finished the second half of his sentence, looking at me with pure terror. "The Boss said, only a man with a wife gets the privilege of being hit. Since we don't have wives, we don't have anyone to hit us, which means we're pathetic." I went completely silent. Now that my memory was back, I was stressed about the progress of my mission. I contacted my superior. My superior replied with a string of question marks. "Aren't you dead?" Me: "Are you cursing me? Watch it, or I'll file an HR complaint!" Superior: "Ooh, is my little baby throwing a tantrum? You want me to take away your little milk bottle?" Me: "...Did I offend you somehow? Why are you talking so much trash?" My superior continued being sarcastic: "I wouldn't dare. You're Arthur Vance's precious little baby now. When I couldn't reach you anywhere, I thought you had been kidnapped. I finally found you on the street and tried to bring you in, and what happened?" What happened was I treated my superior like a human trafficker. I remembered. I remembered everything. He got more and more agitated as he spoke: "You called me an ugly old fossil! Said I was basic and hideous! Said I couldn't even compare to a single finger on your precious baby Arthur!" "I was so furious I couldn't eat for three days and three nights!" "How am I ugly?! I'm the goddamn flower of the department!" I was wrong. I apologize. Eventually, we got down to business. My superior told me everything had been investigated. That Mr. Shaw had been arrested. As for Arthur, because he was instrumental in helping the police catch Shaw, he was awarded an "Outstanding Citizen" commendation. They investigated him top to bottom, inside and out, and found absolutely nothing illegal. It's just that during the time I had amnesia, Arthur kept me under incredibly tight surveillance, and the department didn't dare alert him. The biggest issue was that I literally couldn't be separated from Arthur, throwing massive tantrums if he left. It gave the department a huge headache, so they just decided to leave me with him. As for right now, I needed to figure out a solid, believable excuse to leave him on my own. Right before hanging up, my superior gloated: "It looks to me like he genuinely loves you. He lets you hit him and curse at him. If you just pack up and leave... who knows, hehehe..." What the hell are you 'hehehe-ing' about, you old fossil?! 4 Just as I was nursing a massive headache over this, Arthur's assistant called me. "Madam, you didn't check in today?" Me: "Check in on what?" He sighed. "No wonder." Then he pleaded with me: "Madam, please come quick and coax the Boss. He's about to blow up the entire company." Leave it to me! I'm on my way! I didn't know the way, so I had Ben drive. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. "W-w-w-waaah." I thought he was just overwhelmed with emotion. I patted his shoulder. "From now on, you're my right-hand man. Do a good job!" "No, Ma'am, what I wanted to say is... I've f-f-failed my driving test f-f-five times." Useless! I made him act as a human GPS instead. Half an hour later, I deeply, profoundly regretted this decision. We came to an intersection. I asked Ben which way to go. He rolled down the window and practically stuck his entire head out. "S-s-st..." "S-s-st..." Straight, right? Got it. I even sped up a little. Ben's face turned completely red: "S-steer right!" ...I should just throw him out of the car. We drove a little further and came to a fork in the road. Ben excitedly pointed at an overpass: "U-u-u..." "U-u-u..." I turned the steering wheel and went up onto the overpass. His face was filled with absolute regret. He slapped his knees with both hands, almost jumping out of his seat: "U-usually it's a dead end up there! Last time I came this way, I was stuck in traffic all day!" Motherfucker. Thanks to Ben, by the time we arrived at Arthur's company building, it was already night. Arthur's assistant was a true professional. According to the security guard, he had been waiting on the curb for me since the afternoon. "Sorry about that. Traffic was terrible." He gave a mysterious, polite smile. "It's no problem at all. A little waiting is nothing." Then he walked ahead of me to lead the way. He walked with a severe limp. "Assistant Zhou, what happened to your leg?" Ben jumped in to answer: "It must be p-p-p-paralyzed!" Assistant Zhou gave him a stern look: "Do not swear in front of the Madam." (In Chinese, "paralyzed" and "motherfucker" sound very similar when stuttered). 5 It wasn't until I arrived that I belatedly realized something. What exactly was I supposed to do here? Assistant Zhou smiled: "Madam, please do not hold back. Feel free to unleash everything." There's definitely a hidden meaning in that! Once I got to the executive suite, I finally understood. Arthur was being harassed by a woman. "So what if she took a bullet for you back then?" "I know you're infinitely tolerant of her out of gratitude. But Arthur, you've done more than enough! Hasn't every single thing she's done over the past few years made you a laughingstock? Do you know what people outside are saying about you?" The man was sitting improperly, leaning diagonally in his executive chair, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes glued to the cell phone on his desk. His tone was completely dismissive: "What are they saying?" The woman scoffed: "They say you're completely whipped. That you have no spine. That you get beaten by a woman every single day and have absolutely zero dignity." Eavesdropping outside the door, I guiltily wiped the sweat from my forehead. Arthur's mind clearly wasn't in the conversation. "Oh." "It's all just jealousy." The woman was absolutely shocked. Then, her eyes turned red with grievance as she asked him, "If you value her that much, then what about me? What am I in your eyes?" I remembered who she was now. She was the daughter of one of Arthur's most loyal subordinates—Sarah Zhao. Rumor had it that the subordinate saved Arthur's life back in the day, but died in the process. Arthur honored that life debt by raising Sarah like she was his own biological younger sister. Ah, that explains it. In the past, I had definitely witnessed the fate of other women who tried to harass him. In the end, every single one of them was so terrified that they would cross the street to avoid him. Arthur didn't even look up. "You're overthinking it." "You aren't even in my eyes." Sarah refused to accept defeat. Crying, she said: "If I was there back then, I would have taken the bullet for you too! What's so great about her?!" I tossed a button into the room. "Ah! A cockroach!" Sarah shrieked loudly and hid behind Arthur. Once she realized she had been pranked, she was furious and indignant. "That doesn't count!" "Chloe, you cheated!" "Honey." Arthur's eyes lit up, and he walked over. "You finally came to pick me up from work." Honestly, looking at him, I was still pretty terrified. I instinctively took a step back. The man froze, looking confused. His eyes filled with hurt. Sarah still refused to give up, clinging to him. "Chloe, you don't even love Arthur! You just use him as a punching bag to vent your anger! You don't even give him the most basic dignity! Let's be honest, you're either after his face or his money. You're a terrible woman!" Damn it. I couldn't argue with that. I felt like she had a point. Arthur's face turned terrifyingly cold: "Get out." Okay, fine. I should probably slip away while I can. This is perfect—I won't even have to agonize over an excuse to break up with him. I had just turned around when the man grabbed my wrist. He said, "I was telling her to get out." Sarah was dumbfounded. Ben and Assistant Zhou were highly observant. They stepped forward, one on the left, one on the right, and physically dragged her away. "Ever heard of first come, first served? No cutting in line!" The door closed. It was incredibly soundproof; I couldn't hear a single thing from outside. I felt a bit lost on what to do. I was just trying to figure out how to break this slightly unfriendly atmosphere. "Honey." Hm? Arthur leaned in and loosely wrapped his arms around me, afraid to squeeze too tight: "I haven't seen you in so long. I missed you so much." Didn't we just see each other this morning? The entire left side of his face was still swollen. I didn't dare move. The man nuzzled against my ear: "Why... why didn't you hit me today?" I stayed silent, entirely focused on forcing my shaking hands to stay still. It was so weird. I had developed muscle memory from hitting him. The moment Arthur's face got close, my hands literally started itching. I offered a few awkward, forced laughs: "After hearing what Sarah said just now, I reflected on myself. I really shouldn't trample on your dignity like that. So I decided I need to fix this bad habit of hitting you." Arthur immediately let go of me. He took a deep breath and pulled out his gun. I asked him, trembling, what he was doing. The man stepped past me, heading for the door, grinding out a single sentence through his teeth: "Going to kill Sarah Zhao!"
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