Chapter Sixteen: Beware the Tiger in Heat

Dragon Fei sat weakly in the luxurious Ferrari, gasping for breath, his eyes fixed with bewilderment on Ye Qian, who was also panting. He forced a smile and said, "Are you a monkey or a dog? Why do you bite and scratch? I admit defeat! I tried to help you out of kindness, but now look at the trouble I've gotten into. Who did I offend?"

"Forget it, forget it—pretend I never said anything. Are you still going racing or not?" Dragon Fei quickly waved his hand. The saying that women are like tigers was absolutely true, and Ye Qian was probably a tiger in heat—her temper was wild and untamed, definitely not someone to cross.

He cursed her in his heart to vent his frustration.

"Hurry up and drive!" Ye Qian threatened, raising her hand again.

Dragon Fei immediately started the car. With a roar, the Ferrari shot forward. If Ye Qian hadn’t just fastened her seatbelt, she would have been intimately acquainted with the windshield.

"Dragon Fei, do you have a death wish?" Ye Qian shrieked.

In America, underground racing was a common madness, but in Shanghai, such things were rare—not only because of the city’s strict law enforcement, but more importantly, because it was hard to find a suitable road for these daredevils. Who could argue? Most racing enthusiasts probably had wildness running in their veins.

Shanghai boasted two famous race tracks: Tianmashan and Shanghai International Circuit, the latter being the only venue in China certified for Formula 1 racing. Its standards matched the world, and in recent years, it had hosted numerous international events.

Unfortunately, the Shanghai International Circuit was closed to the public except during official races or major events. For ordinary racing fans, the dream of racing there was just that—a dream.

But in China, money and power open every door; without them, you go nowhere. For most, the circuit was off-limits. But for heirs of wealthy conglomerates like Ye Qian, entry was merely a matter of whim.

Today was not a special occasion, nor was there any event, yet the entrance to the track was bustling. A parade of BMWs, Audis, Porsches, Ferraris, Hondas, and other luxury cars parked at the gate. Trendy, stylish men and women gathered, chatting animatedly, while staff watched from a distance, not daring to intervene.

These people were regulars; everyone knew their backgrounds. None were over twenty-five, but their status commanded respect. Often, a single phone call from one of them would have the track ready in minutes.

As Dragon Fei’s car rolled to a stop, the crowd hurried over to greet Ye Qian, clearly holding her in high regard.

He noticed their bold, avant-garde attire. Each man had a girl draped over him, all decked out in designer brands. Some men proudly went shirtless, showing off animal tattoos on their chests and arms—a sight that amused Dragon Fei.

The girls were even more daring. Some wore no bras, others wore them as mere decoration, their faces seductive, their voices shrill—a Shanghai trait that made Dragon Fei shiver. The most repulsive was a flamboyant woman who, leaning against her man, blew Dragon Fei kisses while her hands roamed her body in obscene gestures, winking at him.

Yet among them, a handful of girls stood together, dressed somewhat less provocatively, traditional by comparison. Ye Qian strode straight toward them, calling out from afar.

"Hey, Qian, where did you find this pretty boy? He’s handsome!" teased a girl in a white T-shirt and jeans, her hair piled high.

She was attractive, though overly reliant on makeup; if she washed off the foundation, she might be even more naturally beautiful. Dragon Fei’s keen hearing picked up her words easily.

"Sun Yan, don’t talk nonsense. I, Ye Qian, would never choose him! He’s just my bodyguard, hired by my dad. Ugh, so annoying!" Ye Qian hurriedly explained, glancing to see if Dragon Fei was approaching. Seeing him drift toward her, she quickly snapped, "Stay put, Dragon Fei. I’m talking to my friends—don’t come over."

Sweating, Dragon Fei dared not move, merely pivoting and nodding with a smile, prompting laughter from the crowd.

"You say he’s not, but look at how obedient he is. And Ye Qian, you’re too wild—messing around in the car? You bit your boyfriend’s shoulder and scratched his face! Who knew you could go so crazy?" A man shot Dragon Fei a jealous look and sneered.

Ye Qian nearly snorted in anger. She scolded, "Li Zhaoyong, just because your dad’s the mayor doesn’t mean you’re hot stuff. I told you, he’s my bodyguard, not my boyfriend. Stop being annoying—go away!"

She turned to her friends and whispered, clearly recounting her bet with Dragon Fei. He could guess the outcome would amuse him soon.

His guess was spot-on. Ye Qian’s animated gestures and the girls’ curious glances made it obvious. Meanwhile, Li Zhaoyong, though flushed with anger, dared not argue further.

"Qian, you didn’t bring us here just to chat, did you? How about another race today? Loser treats everyone to tea at the Jinmao Tower!" called a handsome, obviously younger boy, unable to contain himself.

At his shout, the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. Ye Qian turned, frowning, "Stop! Are you trying to rebel? Whoever shouts again, I’ll smack them!"

Silence fell.

Dragon Fei wiped his brow. Ye Qian was truly a little demoness—not a demon queen, but close. Anyone with a brain could see from the luxury cars that these youths came from powerful backgrounds, yet they all obeyed Ye Qian.

But recalling his recent run-ins with Ye Qian, Dragon Fei felt a surge of pride. He chuckled to himself, though dared not show it.

"Fatty, everything ready inside?" Ye Qian called to a burly man.

"Qian, as soon as you called, I got everything set. You don’t trust me with something this simple?" Despite his size, the man was meek before Ye Qian. The girl beside him was a recent companion—though she didn’t know Ye Qian, she was well aware of Fatty’s family status. Otherwise, why would a campus beauty from a technical university date him? Seeing Fatty’s ingratiating smile and hearing his sycophantic tone, she eyed Ye Qian with curiosity, wondering who this young lady was, able to command the cream of Shanghai’s elite.

Ye Qian nodded, then glanced at Dragon Fei and smiled, "Today, I’ve arranged a real spectacle for everyone. Don’t miss it!"

As all eyes turned to Dragon Fei, he managed a gentlemanly smile, though inside he felt uneasy. As a seasoned assassin, he hated being in the spotlight—a crowd’s attention felt dangerously exposed. Assassins had their own rules: if everyone knew your cards, death was not far behind. To avoid being understood or seen through, the best strategy was to hide in the shadows, observe opponents’ weaknesses, and strike decisively at the crucial moment.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed—a sound only high-revving sports cars could produce. A flash of yellow shot from the horizon, coming to a halt before the group in a blink.

Everyone stared wide-eyed. They’d seen such speed before, but only at international races. Was the newcomer a professional racer? Was Ye Qian’s spectacle to pit them against a pro? That would be pointless. They loved racing, but knew their own limits. Racing was more about showing off—when most heirs played hacky sack, not joining in meant you were out of touch.

From the yellow Mercedes emerged a man in his thirties, clad in professional racing gear. His attire matched the specially modified car. Removing his helmet, he was greeted with wild applause and excited shouts from the crowd.