吃槍子，也不吃刀子

In the year when I trusted Jiang Rang the most, he betrayed me. He pointed a gun at me, its dark muzzle aimed straight at my face.

“Ji Huaichuan, the biggest regret of my life is sleeping with you.”

My gaze darkened, a hint of self-mockery flickered in my eyes.

“Then make it quick.”

As soon as I finished speaking, a bullet pierced my left shoulder, and I fell into the abyss of the deep sea.

Later, at the largest establishment in the Golden Triangle, amidst the flashing lights and complex interplay of various forces, an inconspicuous undercover agent clenched his fists, staring intently at the man sitting in the center of the crowd—the very man he had thought about day and night for three years. The man who should have been food for the fish but was here, carefree, laughing and chatting.

Feeling the intense, burning gaze, I casually raised my eyes mid-laughter and pointed directly at Jiang Rang.

“Yes, you. Come over and take off your clothes.”

(Queenly, dominant bottom vs. ruthless, wolfish top)