Thursday, 3 p.m., Special Investigation Team's office area.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Tahveli."
Luo An walked alone into the interrogation room, turned on the surveillance camera, handed a cup of coffee to handcuffed Tahveli, and, smiling, sat down opposite him, asking:
"How's your head, still clear?"
Previously, Luo An had plunged into the tunnel, knocking Tahveli unconscious with a single punch.
Tahveli, in his sixties, had scant white hair and a very kind face. To the untrained eye, one wouldn't think him the leader of the Naloya Drug Trafficking Group; he appeared more like a retired old man playing chess in the park.
Now, with his hands cuffed, Tahveli's expression remained composed as he replied with a light smile:
"Not bad, just a slow recovery. You young people really don't know how to respect the elderly."
"I always respect ordinary elderly people, but there's no need to respect a major drug lord."
