"It's me."
A familiar voice came from outside the door.
"Yevgeny."
Upon hearing this voice, Song Heping secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
It's the chef.
He glanced at the peephole.
Outside the door stood a tall bald man, his face as smooth as a shaved winter melon, dressed in an elegant dark gray three-piece suit, with a diamond-studded tie clip sparkling under the hallway lights.
No mistake.
It's definitely that chef.
Only then did Song Heping tuck the pistol back to his waist and reach out to open the door.
"Dressed so formally, whose wedding are you attending?"
Song Heping laughed, letting his old friend into the room.
In fact, he already had questions in his mind.
Why didn't the chef call before coming to him?
Suddenly appearing was definitely not coincidence.
There must be something special going on.
Yevgeny grinned: "I'm inviting you to my restaurant for drinks tonight."