Chapter 3

「Guqing Lin, you’re slacking off again.」 A playful voice yanks me out of my thoughts. Wang Jiao Jiao, wearing a crisp white shirt with a neat single braid, glares at me with a hint of irritation in her eyes.

「Nope, I was checking if these books are arranged by their numbers.」 I grin lazily.

「Pfft, you’re a guy, how can you let me clean the house every time……」

「Because you’re cute.」

「When the boss comes back, I’ll have him deduct your salary.」 Wang Jiao Jiao sighs, then dashes downstairs.

Forgetting to mention, this is my second identity. My mentor, who got me into the hitman business, warned me: a hitman is just a job to make money, like a street cleaner—dirty work, higher pay, but never let killing become your entire life. No matter how skilled you are, human psychological limits exist. Constant killing will turn you into a psychopathic sociopath. It’s best to find another job related to your interests to balance the intense stimulation of murder.

A 40-square-meter convenience store, with no more than ten customers daily.

A lazy boss who disappears for months, only returning to lie on a wicker chair and sleep.

A pretty, cute waitress who constantly argues with me but never loses her temper, as clean as an unstained white dress, adding some fun to my relaxed work.

Like a CD, one side is blood-red, the other a calm light blue.

Left hand: Cupid, right hand: Death. That’s my life.

「Xiao Gu, my house’s sewer is clogged again. Can you help me check?」 My neighbor’s mother-in-law, holding a cane, asks me.

「Sure, I’ll go later.」 I smile.

「Xiao Gu, my cat food arrived. Can you carry it up?」 The pregnant neighbor nervously smiles at me.

「No problem.」

All morning, I helped neighbors with errands. I sat on the boss’s favorite chair, gasping for air, while Wang Jiao Jiao handed me water, nervously pointing upstairs.

「They’re back again.」

Several kids with weird hairstyles, lounging on the second floor, smoking and farting, occasionally glancing at Wang Jiao Jiao with lecherous eyes.

I chuckled, pretending to be tense: 「What to do?」

「Call the boss, or call the police?」 Wang Jiao Jiao nervously bites her lip.

「I’ll go up and talk to them first.」

I go upstairs. The gang’s lazy, living off scams. Their leader, a red-haired baldy with the nickname “Chu Shuo,” points at Wang Jiao Jiao: 「Get down, call that girl up to talk to me.」

「She’s new. I can help you with anything.」 I hold my breath, face reddening.

「Go fuck yourself!」 Chu Shuo slaps me. To me, it’s like slow-mo, but I suppress the reflex to dodge, covering my face and stepping back.

「What are you doing? Who’s the one being hit?」 A short-haired female officer rushes up. Wang Jiao Jiao had gone to find a street cop.

Chu Shuo eyes the officer, a 20-something with pale skin, slim figure, and deep-sea eyes, but a strange expression—defiant and stubborn.「Officer, your number? Dinner tonight?」 He smirks.

The gang cheers, surrounding her.

「Is that you?」 She points at Chu Shuo.

「Yo, your hands are white!」 He grabs her wrist, pulling her close.

Next second, he screams. She twists his arm, slamming him down. He yells in pain. The gang tries to help, but her glare stops them. She cuffs him, then says to me: 「You, come with me to the station. Record a statement.」