"This is my good brother and the current boss of our company, Sang!"
As soon as Song Heping entered the restaurant, the chef couldn't wait to introduce him to his gang friend, Ivan.
"He's the most formidable tactics master I've ever seen!"
"Pleased to meet you, my brother!"
Ivan, still holding a drink in his hand, opened his arms and gave Song Heping a solid hug.
This guy was dressed in a white suit and a top hat, but under the jacket, he only wore a white tank top, revealing tattoo-covered skin that extended to his neck, with bizarre patterns appearing to be symbols and special markings.
This was the first time Song Heping had seen someone with tattoos that were both so dense and so numerous.
It gave the impression that Ivan wished to leave some pattern on every inch of skin one could tattoo.
The chef also had tattoos, but not as many, and located on his chest, normally out of sight.
Song Heping had also heard the chef casually mention the tattoo culture of their Russian gang.
For example, dagger tattoos on the shoulders indicate the criminal has killed in prison and is open to murdering for hire.
Bells on the feet meant he had served long prison terms.
Shackles on the ankle signified a sentence of more than five years.
Rings on the fingers represent his rank.
Stars on the knees mean "I will not kneel before the police."
Every tattoo on Ivan's body seemed to declare to others that he was a tough guy.
Song Heping's personality wasn't exactly outgoing, even a bit introverted.
He was so embarrassed by Ivan's enthusiasm that he could almost dig out a three-bedroom, two-living-room flat with his toes.
"Come, come, let's have a drink!"
Before Song Heping had a chance to sit down, Ivan had already taken over as host, uncorking the wine bottle and clanging glasses in front of everyone, filling a tall glass to the brim.
That kind of tall glass held half a liter, and it took almost half a bottle of Blue Ribbon XO.
"To show my respect for you, you drink from the glass, and I'll drink from the bottle, Додна!"
Having said that, he put the bottle to his lips and started to guzzle down the content.
In less than half a minute, the rest of the half liter had entered Ivan's stomach. He let out a satisfied belch, then glanced at Song Heping's glass and said, "Badlyahali!"
Having spent a lot of time with these Russian gang types recently, Song Heping had picked up a bit of the Russian lingo.
Ivan was urging him to hurry up and finish his drink.
Out of politeness, he picked up the glass and drained it in one go.
"Let's sit down and chat while we eat."
The chef quickly invited everyone to sit.
Then came the food.
Lobster, giant grouper, abalone, conch, Gold crab...
Seafood was naturally the focus here.
And of course, there was also premium Angus beef.
The rent of $30,000 a day was indeed not spent in vain; you get what you pay for.
Since this was not the Maldives that Illiguo came to for vacation, everyone at the scene let loose with their drinking.
The most composed drinkers at the table were Song Heping and a man named Samir.
Perhaps it was the joy of reunion after many years or finding an old acquaintance in a foreign place, but the chef and Ivan were the most animated in their conversation.
When the chat heated up, they hugged and banged heads together with a loud thud, making one worry about whether their skulls might crack.
With drinks in him, Ivan became even more unrestrained, boasting endlessly about how there was nothing in the world he couldn't handle, and from now on, whatever firearms "Musician" Defense could get, he would sell them all.
Samir whispered to Song Heping, "One can't take the Russian's words seriously after they've been drinking."
Song Heping agreed, "I know."
Drunk, they call each other brothers, but sober, they treat you like a fool.
Song Heping had seen this sort of thing before.
Just as the wine flowed and the dishes pleased the palate, Ivan's phone rang.
Already bleary-eyed, he fumbled several times before finally retrieving his phone, pressed the call button three times, held it to his ear, and berated loudly, "I'm drinking! Don't you ever check the time before calling?! I said I was meeting an old friend here in the Maldives today, and not to bother me unless it's urgent! Didn't you remember?"
Ivan truly acted the part of a big brother; even inebriated, he retained his commanding presence.
However, the person on the other end of the line seemed undeterred and continued talking.
As Ivan listened, his expression turned grim.
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Initially, he had been flushed from drinking, but his complexion gradually turned pale.