Chapter 7: The Bet — Loser Runs Naked

“What else do you want to do?!”
Xingye strode right up in front of Xu Zijie, shielding him. “You think scaring the monkey will work on me? Stop wasting time—come at me directly!”

“So, Xu Zijie is you?” Shen Qingci looked past him.

Xu Zijie froze, almost bursting into tears.

No way! Bro, why did you have to walk over? If you hadn’t, she wouldn’t even know. The moment you did, you practically announced my ID number to her!

Grinding his teeth, he shoved Xingye aside and puffed himself up with tragic heroism.
“I’m Xu Zijie! It’s me!”

“Mm. I’m here for you.”

The two of them went into the bathroom, one after the other.

Xingye wanted to follow, but found the door locked. He slapped it irritably, then shouted:
“What are you standing there for? Call someone to break the lock!”

Didn’t even take two minutes—before the locksmith arrived, the door opened.

Xu Zijie came out like a drenched quail, trailing behind Shen Qingci.

Someone wanted to comfort him, but before they could even speak, Xu Zijie leapt forward in two strides to pull out a chair for Shen Qingci.

Xingye stared like he’d seen a ghost.

But Shen Qingci didn’t sit. Instead, she turned her head toward him.

Xingye sneered, full of fire. “What? My turn now?”

His temper was fully lit.

So what if she was some big shot? He wasn’t going home no matter what!

“I know you’re not convinced,” Shen Qingci said evenly. “Dare to make a bet with me?”

“Pfft. What would I not dare?” Xingye shot back without hesitation.

Her lips curved. “Alright, let’s bet—on that.”

She casually pointed toward the shooting range nearby.

“What? A shooting match with Brother Xing?” someone laughed, but quickly fell silent.

Xingye chuckled too, sizing her up. “Fine. But what’s the stake?”

“If I lose, you can deal with me however you want. If you lose, you go home.”

“Boring.” Xingye curled his lip, flicking his lighter open and shut. “If we’re betting, make it big. On top of that—whoever loses has to strip naked and run a lap around the casino.”

“Deal!”

Shooting Room.

Xingye casually picked up a gun, weighed it in his hand, checked it over, then raised it.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Three shots. All bullseye, dead center.

Someone behind cheered: “Wow, Brother Xing, amazing!!”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Shen Qingci.

She was fiddling with her gun, head lowered, looking unfamiliar with it. “It’s not too late to admit defeat now,” Xingye said smugly. “I can even spare you the streaking.”

But then she raised the gun in a perfect stance.

Aim. Fire.

Three shots.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Everyone froze. That posture… kind of professional?

Until she lifted her head.

“Pfft—” Xu Zijie burst out laughing, then clamped a hand over his mouth, face flushing red.

All three of her bullets had completely missed the target.

“Haha, sister-in-law, maybe we should just call it off,” Lu Yao piped up gleefully. “If you lose later, it’ll be too embarrassing.”

Laughter erupted behind them. Shen Qingci ignored it, just studied the gun again.

This wasn’t like the ones she’d used before—it was much older, less accurate.

She remembered, for this type, you had to aim a little lower…

She raised it again and fired three more shots.

Three hits—8 points each.

Another wave of laughter.

“Sister-in-law, you should buy a scratch-off ticket later—you might actually win, hahaha!”

“Cut the crap, I’m ready,” Shen Qingci interrupted.

Xingye snorted, turning to grab his gun.

“Remember, a bet’s a bet.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop nagging.” She picked up her gun too.

They stood side by side, ten bullets each, score-based.

“Bang! Bang!”

One shot from her—9 points.
One shot from him—9 points.

Xu Zijie clapped: “Not bad, sister-in-law! You’re catching up to Brother Xing!”

The others laughed along.

But Shen Qingci didn’t flinch, calmly firing again.

“Bang!”
Bullseye. 10 points.

The laughter started to fade.

“Bang, bang, bang!”
10 points. 10 points. 10 points!

Xingye’s eyes shifted. His gaze on her sharpened, and when he turned back to shoot, his rhythm was broken—9 points, one less than her.

Then, five more shots from her. All bullseyes, 10 points each!

The room fell silent, stunned.

Was that really just luck?

After the round, Xingye was still trailing by that one shot.

He clenched his jaw. “Again!”

Shen Qingci smirked. “You’ve already lost, Xingye.”

“One more round! How have I lost?” he shot back stubbornly.

But inside, he was rattled.

Shooting had always been his favorite since childhood. He’d spent countless hours training—he knew better than anyone how hard it was.

And she… she wasn’t bluffing. She really could shoot.

Shen Qingci glanced at him, then suddenly flipped her gun, loaded it smoothly.

“Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!”

All ten shots hit his target board.

Every single one—10 points.

The crowd fell into dead silence!

Shen Qingci tossed aside the gun, took off her glasses and bracelet, leaned on the counter, and bent toward him.

“Oops, wrong target. Guess that means I lose.”

Then she stepped back, reaching for her clothes.

So fast Xingye nearly failed to stop her!

“What the hell are you doing?!” He yanked her collar back.

She looked up at him, face still calm, but under the cold blue light there was a dangerous beauty that was breathtaking.

“I lost the bet. I pay up.” She tugged again.

“Stop it!”

“No. I’m keeping my word.”

“Shen Qingci!”

Xingye gripped her collar tightly and roared: “Are you all dead? Turn around!”

She was still his wife. If she stripped in front of everyone—how the hell was he supposed to show his face afterward?!

The crowd, jaws dropped in O-shapes, obediently spun around.

Xingye gritted his teeth, glaring at her for a long moment, before muttering awkwardly: “No one lost. It’s a draw.”

“Then… are you going home?” she asked.

The words froze him.

Go home.

Like a thunderclap in his chest—silent, but exploding inside.

His handsome, rebellious face twisted through several expressions before he finally sneered: “Hmph. Fine, just this once, I’ll give you face.”

They left together, black leather boots crunching on the snow.

Behind them, the group leaned over the second-floor railing, howling in unison.

“Get lost!”

A snowball came flying midair, smacking straight into Xu Zijie’s mouth.

Back home, Xingye stared at the newly decorated front door. The irritation rose again.

He stepped forward—then stepped back.

In the stunned stares of all the servants, he kicked the door hard, feeling instantly better, and walked inside.

Sister Zhang whispered, “Has the young master gone crazy?”

Sister Li quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, then looked up to see Xingye’s face appear on the second floor.

“Sister Zhang.”

She jumped.

Expressionless, Xingye ordered: “Wipe that footprint off the door.”

“S-sorry, young master, I didn’t mean—huh?”

When she looked back up, he was gone.

She turned to Sister Li.

The two women stared at each other, mouths wide open.

Meanwhile, Xingye stormed into his bedroom, cursing under his breath, regretting ever agreeing to go home.

Now he’d done it—that woman would be smug as hell.

She was probably boasting to Grandpa already, saying how amazing, how cool, how badass she was, dragging him back home!

“Damn it!”

He spun around and punched his pillow hard.

“Tomorrow, just watch, I’ll—”

“Are you going to sleep or not?” a familiar voice suddenly cut in.

Xingye’s eyes flew open. He turned—and there she was.

He scrambled back, clutching at the blanket. “Y-you-you… Shen Qingci!”