Thinking that this child is of the same foul breed as Zhao Mengjin? Yebai crossed his arms in front of his chest, entering a contemplative state. He recalled how Zhao Mengjin had also been overly clingy with his wife before.
Zhao Zirong immediately pretended he had seen nothing, taking Yebai’s silence as a form of tacit agreement.
Seeing Zirong’s act, Yebai snorted through his nostrils, knowing all too well why so many people desperately tried to get close to his wife—it was because she was too good.
After finishing their meal and seeing that it was almost time, they settled the bill at the small restaurant and walked toward the door, ready to hop into their Santana parked just outside.
Zhao Zirong, holding the car keys, was about to unlock his car door when his shirt sleeve was suddenly tugged by Xiao Yebai.
"Wait," Xiao Yebai said in a low voice.
Zhao Zirong was initially startled, then followed Yebai’s gaze to see a few young people wandering aimlessly across the street. At first glance, there was nothing unusual, but upon closer inspection, one could spot the oddness: these youths were loitering back and forth on the street like restless spirits, watching someone intently.
This familiar scene immediately conjured the word ’robbery’ in Zhao Zirong’s mind. Having traveled extensively for business, he had encountered numerous such crises.
Were they being targeted?
No sooner had Zhao Zirong thought this, considering whether to call the police or take some other action, did Xiao Yebai suddenly pull him back into the restaurant. Zirong, almost unable to resist, quickly realized something was amiss and, worried about his car, said, "There are things in the car—"
"I’m afraid something has been planted on that car," Yebai said, almost adding that if they were to get into the car, they would soon be flying up to the clouds, their lives heading swiftly to the afterlife.
Zhao Zirong’s eyes bulged with a start.
It was plausible for him to encounter petty theft or robbery when carrying cash, but having a bomb planted in his car was something Zhao Zirong had never experienced.
After all, the Zhao family wasn’t the wealthiest. If someone coveted the Zhao family’s money, it would more likely be through kidnapping rather than planting a bomb in their car with the intent to destroy both the vehicle and its occupants, leaving nothing to gain.
Zhao Zirong’s mind was in a whirl, unable to conceive of someone harboring such deep-seated enmity against the Zhao family that they would seek to destroy them. Over the years, the Zhao family had conducted their business abroad with a policy of peace and conciliation, not one of making enemies. Indeed, as father Zhao always said, lost money can be earned back, but a lost life can never be restored.
Xiao Yebai led him back into the restaurant and communicated briskly with the staff in the familiar local Brazilian dialect. Then, the two men made their way toward another door at the back of the restaurant.
This door led to a different road.
A man stood across the street, his presence as conspicuous as a crane among chickens as they walked out the door.
Zhao Zirong looked over and noticed the man’s hair—a dense black, as black as a crow’s, slightly curled as if naturally so.
His blue eyes shone like the gleam of a specter, flickering within the man’s pupils.
Toward them, this man dressed in a gray striped suit with the appearance of nobility, raised a hand, his bright red lips curving into a smile as glaring as a woman’s lipstick, as if about to bleed.
Images of blood and terror flashed through Zhao Zirong’s mind, making him feel an urge to vomit.