"Xiao Hai, are you sure it's here?"
A few days later.
At the corner of a street outside the Wanghai Farewell Society store, a black Land Rover was parked by the roadside. Several youths stood in front of the car, puffing away and squinting as they watched the store not far away.
The one speaking was the only one among them wearing a proper suit, and also the only one without any facial injuries.
The other youths beside him had tattooed arms and close-cropped hair. Some had arms in casts, some were limping, and some had bruised and swollen faces, looking quite a mess at first glance.
Although the youth in the suit seemed fine, it was still evident that his back was slightly hunched, as if he found it hard to stand upright.
Passersby, seeing this group from a distance, instinctively avoided them, as if sensing that they were trouble.
