“I found him. As uncle said, that man liked drinking very much. He had more than ten years of arms trading experience. He was a good assistant to the old fox but he was sent to South America when Lu Feng was in power.”

“Drunkard used to...” He was dizzy and almost failed to control his mouth to say what should not be said, Chen An stopped his words and looked at Chen Yang.

Seeing Chen Yang seemed to have no respond, he calmed down slightly and continued, “Now that the drunkard is not entrusted with important post by Lu Feng, which means he is semi-retired, but he is a good expert, especially familiar with the Middle East, you can let him participate in the business of Middle East.”

“But uncle, after all, he used to be Lu Feng’s man. Would it be bad for us?”

“You can rest assured that Lu Feng will not use the person he distrusts.”

The drunkard was a person who was not trusted by Lu Feng.

The distant lights reflected in the Xiang River turned into blurred shadows. Chen An slowly breathed out, as if he was really drunk.

“Chen Yang, help me in.”

The man staggered to his feet and naturally leaned on Chen Yang. Chen Yang put his arm around the man’s waist and arm, and took Chen An into the bedroom, who was already drunk.

“Uncle?” Chen Yang called him softly.

Chen An lay on the bed with one hand covering his eyes and forehead, and gave a gentle response, which was not even audible.

Half kneeling beside the bed, Chen Yang took off Chen An’s shoes and socks, and rubbed his palms gently when his hands covered the cold barefoot feet, trying to make Chen An’s feet warmer.

The sensitive foot shrank back because of being rubbed. Chen An muttered half-awakened: “Lu Feng, how many times have I told you... Don’t warm them for me...”

His voice got quieter and quieter, and his words got more and more vague, but the first two words were incomparably clear into Chen Yang’s ears.

Lu Feng?

“Uncle, what did you just call me?”

The man seemed to have fallen asleep and did not respond to Chen Yang’s words.

“I’m Chen Yang, uncle, I’m Chen Yang...”

Carefully pulling the quilt over the man’s feet, Chen Yang repeated the sentences, then firmly grasped the corner of the quilt, and slowly loosened it.

Where any platform or individual uses translations on flying-lines.com without permission and infringe our translation right, we shall safeguard our legitimate rights and interests through legal channels. If any act against our party has taken place, the tortfeasor shall immediately stop the infringement, eliminate the negative impact, make an apology and compensate for the loss.

With calm and cold eyes fixed on the man who had fallen asleep, Chen Yang muttered, “Whoever you are, you are my uncle.”

He bent down on the man’s forehead and left a light kiss. Chen Yang smiled and reached out to tide his hair. After pulling the quilt over for the man, he turned off the bedroom lamp and closed the door gently.

“Good night, uncle.”

A cool night breeze blew the curtains and through the gaps in the curtains, a few lights illuminated the glasses the men put on the bedside.

The man in bed breathed steadily, without warning, and suddenly someone climbed up the window with one hand.

The black figure carefully jumped into Chen An’s bedroom and approached quietly. He took out a wet towel sprayed with knockout drops from his arms and gently covered Chen An’s mouth and nose.

“Target confirmed.” The whispering words were pure Russian.

The night breeze blew, and when the curtains fluttered, the lights fell on the room, leaving the bedroom empty.

Under the tall building, a black car headed for the airport in the busy night of Hong Kong.