Chapter 2 Hunter

  Just as the two men were at a stalemate, the robber who had been knocked unconscious by Zhao Zhi's foot woke up and struggled to reach for his waist. Hmm, it seemed like this little thief had something on him, Zhao Zhi thought to himself, bending down to search the man's body. A southern-style handgun was retrieved from the man's waist, and upon seeing the gun, the crowd of onlookers immediately retreated and dispersed, no longer daring to watch.

  Japanese goods, Zhao Zhi spun the pistol into a few gun flowers and inserted it into his own waist. The Nambu pistol was a regular pistol worn by Japanese military officers during World War II. Due to frequent jamming and limited range and lethality, it had actually become a symbol of an officer's status. After occupying Shanghai, the Japanese army once issued a batch of Nambu pistols to the surrendered agents and local rascals as a reward for providing intelligence. It seems that this robbery man under Zhao Zhi's feet should also be some kind of agent or someone who had made contributions.

  "Sir, can you return my purse first?" A brand new $10 bill was handed in front of Zhao Zhi's eyes. The foreigner was no longer as fierce as before, but had a bitter face and begged Zhao Zhi. When things go against the norm, they become abnormal. Zhao Zhi took the bill and stuffed it into his pocket, but didn't return the purse.

  "Aren't you going to invite me for a drink?" Zhao Zhi's face was smiling, but his foot kicked the robber's head. The robber underfoot let out a miserable cry, struggled a few times, and fainted again. Zhao Zhi's dark eyes quietly stared at the foreigner in front of him, with some murderous intent in his gaze, daring the foreigner to make any sudden moves, Zhao Zhi wouldn't mind shooting him dead on the spot.

  The foreigner seemed to be unable to withstand Zhao Zhi's gaze and took a step back, wiping the cold sweat that had appeared on his face with his sleeve. After swallowing several mouthfuls of saliva, the foreigner stiffly invited Zhao Zhi to sit down at a Russian bar he often visited. "Lead the way" Zhao Zhi gestured for the foreigner to walk ahead, while he followed behind, carrying his bag.

  The foreigner took Zhao Zhi into a narrow alley, passing through the alley to the opposite street. It's not a good place to stay for long, and it's better for those old vagrants who make a living on the streets to hide a bit, otherwise they will bother you to death. After seven turns and eight bends, they entered a quiet and simple Russian-owned bar. There were very few customers in the bar, almost all of them were foreigners, and Chinese people rarely came to this kind of bar. This is a slum area, with many hooligans outside, but the bar inside was very quiet, apparently the owner of this Russian bar had great power.

  A Russian woman wearing a cheongsam, familiarly and intimately with the old foreigner, directly handed over a bottle of ordinary-priced foreign wine. From her calm response, it can be seen that this woman is very familiar with the old foreigner. Before the wine was served, Zhao Zhi and the old foreigner had been silently staring at each other, seemingly guessing each other's identity and background.

  "You can call me Lightning." Zhao Zhi picked up a cigarette from a wooden box on the bar and put it in his mouth. Zhao Zhi's gun-drawing speed was very fast, just like lightning, so his nickname in the mercenary world was also called Lightning.

  "Ah, hello, I'm Hunt, a British." After taking a sip of wine, Hunt was no longer so nervous and introduced himself eloquently.

  "So, Mr. Hunter, what do you do? Why would someone with a gun rob you?" Zhao Zhi savored the foreign liquor, patted the black leather bag on the bar, and asked Hunter with a smile.

  Han Te glanced around cautiously, seeing no one paying attention, he whispered, "I'm in the coffee bean business. Yesterday, a Japanese person wanted to buy my coffee machine and beans at a low price, I didn't agree, and today someone came to rob me."

  Pfft, Zhao Zhi spat out the foreign liquor he had just drunk, looking at Hunter in astonishment. It seemed that no matter when, the business of selling arms was always referred to as the coffee bean business. In his previous life, Zhao Zhi had worked as a bodyguard for an arms dealer for a few days and had learned some industry jargon: "coffee machine" referred to bullet production lines, while "coffee beans" usually meant bullets or hand grenades.

  Zhao Zhi wiped the wine stain from the corner of his mouth and stared straight at Hunter, feeling delighted in his heart. It seemed that he had picked up a treasure today.

  "Mr. Lightning, what's wrong with you?" Perhaps it was the eerie smile on Zhao Zhi's face that startled Hunter, who waved his hand in front of Zhao Zhi's eyes and asked anxiously.

  "No, I just remembered something," Zhao Zhi pushed the black leather bag on his side to Hunter, along with the $10 Hunter had given him earlier. "Hunter, these are yours, I'm returning them to you now."

  "This $10 is a small token of my gratitude, why do you want to return it to me?" Hunt was somewhat puzzled by the Chinese man in front of him, and stretched out his hand to push the bill back to Zhao Zhi. "NO, NO Hunt, I don't want your money, I just want to ask for your help." Zhao Zhi pressed down on the money that Hunt had pushed over, looking at Hunt with a sincere expression, very serious.

  "Alright then, you tell me, as long as it's something I can do."

  "I need to borrow some coffee beans and a coffee pot from you first, and I'll pay for them in a few days, is that okay?"

  Han Te jumped up like a needle had been pricked on his buttocks, looking at Zhao Zhi with a shocked face, "What kind of person are you?"

  Zhao's shoulders shrugged casually, his hands spread out, "I'm just someone who once helped you, you can think of me as a passerby in your life. If that doesn't work for you, then let's pretend I didn't say anything."

  Han Te, who was half-believing and half-doubting, sat down again, picked up the pen and notepad on the bar, and wrote an address for Zhao Zhi. "This address, tomorrow night at 10 o'clock, I'll only give you this one chance, if you're late by a minute, I won't wait for you."

  "For our friendship, cheers." Zhao Zhi picked up the wine glass and clinked it with Hunter's before taking a happy swig. Carefully putting away the note, Zhao Zhi left the bar first, leaving Hunter to pay the bill. Watching Zhao Zhi's receding back, Hunter covered his face in dismay, muttering to himself: "Why did I believe someone I'd never met? Oh God, help me!"

  Zhao Zhi walked out of the bar with a relaxed face, hailed a rickshaw and threw a dollar. "Take me to the most prosperous place in Shanghai."

  Taking over the big ocean thrown by Zhao Zhi, the car husband lightly arched his waist and picked up the handle to run. Sitting in the rickshaw, Zhao Zhi admired the night Shanghai and pondered his plan to make money. Not only money, but also a handy weapon, as a mercenary, with empty hands all day long, it really doesn't look good.