Chapter One: The Finest Scoundrel

Absolute Mad Dragon

As the country's most popular star in film, television, and music, Hou Mengdie was no stranger to flying. Yet she had never imagined she would find herself seated next to such a slovenly man with such brazen audacity.

Hou Mengdie wore a black blouse, cinched at the waist with a white ribbon tied in a bow, and a black skirt that ended just above her knees. Her long, shapely legs were sheathed in sheer black stockings, only intensifying her allure. Her complexion was as delicate as the petals of a flower, so smooth it seemed a breath might bruise it.

It was obvious that Long Fei was not welcome in first class. Even the ever-smiling flight attendant, who maintained her poise and courtesy, could not hide her distaste for him. These days, the number of wealthy people had grown, and flying was no longer their exclusive privilege. As long as you had an ID and a ticket, you could board—no matter your fortune, you couldn’t book a flight on a rocket or charter an entire plane for yourself.

Long Fei looked every bit the pauper—more like an Indian refugee than a businessman. Yet no one could challenge his right to sit in first class. What vexed everyone most was his extraordinary luck: he happened to be seated right next to Hou Mengdie, the celebrated star. The faint odor of sweat emanating from Long Fei drifted through the cabin, and Hou Mengdie’s frequent furrowing of her delicate brows only fueled the other passengers’ urge to pitch him off the plane.

Hou Mengdie was furious. If not for her public image, she would have slapped Long Fei across the face. Men could be lecherous by nature, but Long Fei’s brazenness was inexcusable; he stared at her without blinking, his gaze lingering shamelessly on her legs and chest. He muttered under his breath, sometimes clicking his tongue or sighing audibly.

Long Fei was oblivious to the glares and muttered complaints from the other passengers; it was as if only Hou Mengdie existed in his eyes. And who was Hou Mengdie? Crowned as the most seductive beauty in the entertainment industry, she had once held the title of Miss World. Her beauty simply defied description.

“Miss, may I ask your name?” Long Fei grinned, taking the initiative to strike up a conversation.

Hou Mengdie was taken aback, regarding him with obvious disgust. Yet as she looked into Long Fei’s eyes, she saw no trace of artifice, which puzzled her. Did he really not recognize her?

Given Hou Mengdie’s fame, anyone who didn’t know her was unlikely to be from China. Yet Long Fei spoke perfect Mandarin. For a moment she felt a twinge of humiliation, but she ignored him.

Long Fei shrugged. “Actually, I just wanted to tell you—there seems to be something wrong with your health. If you don’t get it checked, it could become serious. Luckily you met me! Why not let me check your pulse? Or perhaps, after we land, we can find a quiet place, and I’ll give you a full examination?”

Scoundrel!

To everyone in the cabin, this was outright harassment. But to deliver such brazen lies with a straight face and unblinking eyes—such a man could only be called an utter degenerate.

“Thank you for your concern!” Hou Mengdie’s cheeks flushed with anger as she glared at Long Fei.

Justice demanded intervention. Before Long Fei could reply, two men in suits seated behind Hou Mengdie fixed him with hostile stares. One leaned forward, warning in a low voice, “Sir, mind your language. If you harass our employer again, we won’t be so polite.”

Long Fei had noticed these two glowering men; they were clearly Hou Mengdie’s bodyguards. Yet he truly had no idea who she was. He had spent the past years traveling all over the country carrying out missions for his old man—missions that involved killing and risking his life, not watching television or keeping up with celebrities. He did watch the news, but only on the Shanghai channel, and only because of a certain woman who had once crossed his path.

“I meant well. If you don’t appreciate it, fine.” Long Fei smiled coolly and let the matter drop, though he grumbled inwardly: Is chatting up a beautiful woman a crime now? Since when is flirting illegal? Go ahead and glare at me—I hope you all get conjunctivitis!

Hou Mengdie was done paying attention to the unkempt man beside her. Yet if she had looked more closely, she might have noticed that, despite his shabby attire, Long Fei was not unattractive. He wasn’t especially handsome, but certainly not repulsive either. In short, he was the kind of man who would melt into the crowd.

Hou Mengdie glanced at her watch, silently praying for time to pass faster so the plane would land at Longhua Airport, and she could escape her predicament. Sitting next to Long Fei was like sitting on pins and needles. Though he didn’t speak to her again, his eyes still wandered over her, making her feel sick.

But in reality, the flight from the Indian airport had only been airborne for half an hour. There were still nearly two hours before they would reach Longhua Airport in China.

Fate is a strange thing. Had Hou Mengdie not traveled to India for a charity event, she would never have crossed paths with Long Fei, a man whose profession was taking lives.

“Sir, may I offer you something to drink?” A beautiful, alluring flight attendant approached with a cart, her smile radiant, her movements graceful, her voice sweet as honey.

She was lovely, but compared to Dragon Maiden, she fell short.

Long Fei was lost in thoughts of the woman beside him, unresponsive to the attendant’s question. He recalled the night before, when he had spent hours of wild, passionate intimacy with Dragon Maiden. The memory still intoxicated him.

What spiritual leader? What demigod? She had been utterly conquered by him. With millions of Indian devotees worshipping Dragon Maiden, Long Fei couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. Yet at the same time, a chill ran down his spine: from now on, he had best keep his meetings with Dragon Maiden secret, or her followers would hunt him down if the truth ever came to light.

“Sir, may I offer you something to drink?” The flight attendant’s professionalism was evident; this was the third time she had asked Long Fei.

“He’s talking to you!” Though Hou Mengdie despised Long Fei, she had to remind him, if only to divert his attention from herself—a small act of self-preservation.

Long Fei finally snapped out of his reverie and looked at the flight attendant. There was no hint of lechery in his gaze as he pointed to his nose and asked with a smile, “Are you talking to me?”

The flight attendant nodded.

“All right, bring me a bottle of Erguotou,” Long Fei replied with a grin.

The attendant hesitated, her smile a little strained but still polite. “I’m sorry, we don’t have that.”

“No?” Long Fei frowned. “Why not? Is it expensive?”

“I’m afraid we don’t serve high-proof spirits on board. If you’d like a drink, we have red wine. Would you like a glass?” she explained patiently.

“Oh, so the drinks on the plane are all free?” Long Fei’s eyes gleamed with sudden mischief.

This drew scornful looks from the other passengers. Who didn’t know that airplane drinks were complimentary?

No wonder he dressed so poorly—he was a bumpkin.

The flight attendant, however, maintained her composure. “Yes, all our food and beverages are complimentary.”

“Great! Then I’ll have a bottle of ’82 Lafite. Make sure it’s genuine—I know my wine. If you try to fool me, I’ll lodge a complaint!” Long Fei winked slyly at her.

Long Fei had seen plenty of beautiful flight attendants and was immune to their charms. He was simply curious to see the attendant’s expression when she stopped smiling, so he deliberately teased her.

The flight attendant struggled to maintain her composure, taken aback by Long Fei’s outrageous request. Before she could respond, the cabin was suddenly rocked by the sound of gunfire. Three Indian men, shirts soaked with sweat and red scarves tied around their heads, sprang from their seats brandishing submachine guns.

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