The next morning, Song Heping sat beside the shipping container, sipping lemonade.
When he woke up, his head was splitting with pain.
The Scotch whisky purchased last night by the chef might have been counterfeit.
If it were real whisky, why would his head hurt?
"Lost."
Grey Wolf had arrived behind him at some point.
"Good morning."
"Do you also have a headache?"
"Yeah, I think the chef bought fake whisky last night."
Hearing this, Song Heping laughed.
He hadn't expected someone else to share his thoughts.
Following the war in Eligo, the alcohol business also thrived.
Everything in the war zone was expensive.
Smuggling whisky was also a good business here.
At present, most of the alcohol in the Green Zone had an unclear origin, and its price was twice as high as in normal countries.
That's war for you.
A nightmare for the common folk, a paradise for the ambitious.
Song Heping, "Hasn't the chef woken up yet?"
Grey Wolf looked back at the shipping container and nodded, "Yeah, he also drank too much."
Then he said to Song Heping, "You drank so much last night, yet you still managed to get up so early. You really can hold your liquor."
Last night Song Heping had been the center of attention.
He had made a name for himself in a single battle.
In the mercenary world, bad news travels fast and so does good news.
After the battle at the overpass, many in Baghdad's mercenary circles knew of a newcomer from China who possessed exceptional skills and had successfully protected the VIP during a critical moment on his first mission.
Reputation is everything.
A personal reputation could also elevate the team's price.
The chef was very pleased.
So, last night he opened six bottles of whisky and even treated everyone to a shot of tequila.
He created a buzz intentionally, which was basically advertising, telling everyone—come to us for jobs, we are strong, our team is full of skilled members!
Song Heping saw what was happening and realized that the chef had it tough too.
Who said only locals need to give toasts? These foreigners had to give toasts as well.
Last night, Thomas also showed up.
Song Heping was quite grateful to Thomas.
It was him who had recommended Song to the chef's team, giving him a way to make a living.
So, Song took it upon himself to give a few toasts.
However, Thomas's face looked off, lacking his usual enthusiasm. Song didn't know whether it was work troubles, eating something bad, or just a case of traveler's diarrhea.
In Eligo, many people suffered from traveler's diarrhea, so he didn't think too much of it.
"Is there work today?"
Song Heping still remembered what Grey Wolf had mentioned previously.
He and the chef's team were "ungrouped" lone ghosts, freelance mercenaries.
If there's work, they earn; if not, they wait.
Richer on some nights, poorer on others.
No wonder the chef had said not to save money but to enjoy life as it comes.
Grey Wolf shook his head, "Haven't heard of any jobs for now, we'll see what the chef plans once he wakes up."
The chef was the core of the team.
Song Heping was beginning to understand.
Why would Grey Wolf and the other paratroopers choose to follow a chef with no service experience and be content working under him.
If White Bear or Grey Wolf were in charge, the whole team would really be out in the cold.
"The contract with Angel, we only took it for one day?"
Song Heping still missed the days of earning ten thousand US dollars a day.