The entire process took less than three seconds.
Everyone in the restaurant was stunned, unsure of what had just happened.
Angel stood up, her face showing no panic, merely observing quietly.
The man stared at Song Heping, a faint smile suddenly appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"Mr. Song truly lives up to his reputation." He said, his English carrying a slight Eastern European accent: "Sorry to disturb you tonight."
He placed the dinner knife down, adjusted his suit, then took out some bills from his pocket, pressed them onto the table, and turned to leave.
Song Heping did not pursue.
He stood there, watching the man's back disappear at the restaurant's entrance.
Every step the man took was steady and composed, his shoulders relaxed, his center of gravity constantly kept between his legs.
This is the gait of a true expert.
He turned back to the table, sat down.
Angel looked at him, said nothing.
Song Heping picked up his wine glass, took a big sip.
