Chapter 49 White Rose
At Linchuan Academy, on the third floor of the art building—the most beautiful spot on campus—a proud young woman stood by the windowsill beside the piano in the dance studio. Through the gap in the curtains, she gazed blankly down at the courtyard below.
“He hasn’t come yet?” she murmured softly to herself.
“What am I waiting for?”
“Waiting for him to come, or...”
“No, I’m angry. Angry that he dared to ignore me, dared to stand me up. He’s the first one to do that.”
A gentle breeze drifted in through the half-open window, causing her silky chestnut hair to sway softly. A few rebellious strands fluttered before her eyes. She raised her left hand, brushing her hair back behind her ear with a slight “tsk,” then reached out with her right hand to close the window and swiftly drew the curtain shut.
She walked over to the piano, picked up the white phone resting on its cover, and dialed a number.
“Pepper, the sound system in the dance room is broken. I want a new one here within ten minutes,” she ordered with a blank expression.
“Yes, Miss,” came the reply.
---
At the White Tiger Nightclub.
“Bodyguard, how amusing. By the way, Little White, it seems there aren’t many people here tonight. What about the guy watching the place and that Tiger fellow? Could they have been taken out?” Rose asked bluntly, as if discussing some trivial matter unrelated to her.
“Uh, well, the people at the venue were taken away by Tiger. It seems it was an order from the young master’s side,” Little White replied awkwardly. He maintained a seemingly good, friendly relationship with Rose, but their social statuses were worlds apart. While Rose could casually call Tiger by name, he dared not. In this place, Tiger was his boss.
“Oh? Little Wild causing trouble at school again? Such a headache,” Rose muttered as she stood and walked toward the bar, picking up a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and examining its vintage.
“Heh, Rose, that bottle is from 2000. The one on the left is your favorite from 1990,” Little White said, carefully avoiding continuing the previous topic. He didn’t know how to respond. Some things were not for him to say; any misstep could cost dearly. So, he chose to sidestep.
It was precisely because Little White mastered the art of knowing when to speak and when to remain silent that he could sit and chat with Rose about makeup and skincare, maintaining a “close” relationship.
“Bang.”
The door of the White Tiger Nightclub was forcefully thrown open.
“Rose, watch out!” Little White immediately stepped in front of her. The other musclemen around the club also tensed, their attention fixed on the entrance.
But Rose was unperturbed. Calmly, she picked up the bottle of 1990 red wine Little White had mentioned, grabbed a corkscrew, and expertly removed the cork.
“Tiger, you’re back,” Little White breathed a sigh of relief when the man entered, realizing Tiger had returned with some men.
“Damn it, I was guarding all day and didn’t see a single shadow. I’m exhausted. The young master even got bloodied today, got scolded half to death by that little brat Miyamoto. Such bad luck,” Tiger cursed as he strode in with over twenty burly men dressed in black.
“Oh? Little Wild got hurt?” Rose set down her half-filled wine glass and looked toward Tiger.
“Rose!” Tiger hadn’t noticed if anyone else was in the club until he heard her voice. Suddenly startled, his expression changed instantly.
---
“How badly is he hurt?” Rose’s violet eyes, shimmering with a mysterious glow, revealed a trace of concern as she looked coldly at Tiger.
“Looks like just a scratch on the hand,” Tiger answered nervously, lowering his head like a child caught in wrongdoing.
“Where is he now?” Rose relaxed upon hearing it was only a minor injury, lifting her wine glass and draining it in one gulp.
“At the hospital.”
“I’m leaving now. Tiger, you seem to have many complaints about working for the gang,” Rose said, setting down her glass. She paced toward the door in high heels, her steps sensual. Passing by Tiger, she listened carefully.
“No, no, it’s just my foul mouth. Rose, please forgive me,” Tiger suddenly dropped to his knees, begging for pardon after hearing her words.
“Don’t let it happen again.” Without even glancing at him, Rose strode out of the White Tiger Nightclub.
Watching her leave, the tense Tiger finally relaxed and sat heavily on the floor, wiping the cold sweat from his brow with his rough hands.
Inside the club, there were no customers—only staff and the musclemen on duty. Seeing the imposing yet disheveled Tiger, like a mouse confronted by a cat, should have been surprising or comical, yet no one showed any hint of amusement. Instead, their eyes held nothing but reverence for the woman who had just left.
The White Rose—the bane of the Linchuan faction—beneath the feminine exterior hid formidable skills that rivaled any man’s. Coupled with her status and position, they had no choice but to fear her.