At first, Chen Haisheng tried to pretend he hadn't noticed. But when Lin Daohang shot him a glare, he looked back with an expression of utter despair.
He took a deep breath, rose from his chair, and walked over to Li Wei.
At twenty-four, he was a full six years older than Li Wei.
Having clawed his way up from the bottom rungs of Chinatown, he carried the heavy air of a belligerent, devil-may-care street brawler. He had always lived by the creed that might makes right.
But now—
With a heavy THUD, his knees slammed stiffly onto the hardwood floor.
He then bent forward, his back arching like a bow, and slammed his forehead hard against the floor with a muffled, yet distinct, crack.
