Chapter 2311 — Into the Tiger's Den
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
Once the mask was on, Wei Zhao was a different man entirely. The old Wei Zhao had been harmless-looking, with a bright, sunny face; this Wei Zhao was a cold-faced deity through and through, someone who plainly was not to be trifled with, the very picture of a man deep in the underworld.
Wei Zhao flagged down a taxi and headed straight for Conch Bar, a stronghold of Red Conch.
From the outside, though, Conch Bar looked like nothing more than a somewhat large bar. Luxury cars filled the lot in front of it, people came and went, the place was bustling and noisy and merry, not in the least like a bar with problems.
Wei Zhao had come to sound the place out, so the role he played today was that of a hapless young fool, a loser in work and love alike, come here to drink himself stupid and have some fun. His face was cold and hard, but if he let a gloomy look settle over it, he would draw less attention.
Since Wei Zhao had come alone and without a car, naturally no one paid him any mind when he walked in.
He found the most out-of-the-way table and sat down, and a waiter came over to ask what he would like to drink.
"A friend recommended this place. What specials do you have?" Wei Zhao took the menu, flipped through it a few times, and asked offhandedly.
"Seven-Color Whiskey is our signature drink—sweet and fragrant, it won't get you drunk, very smooth on the palate. You might give it a try, sir," the waiter recommended.
"All right, one glass of that, plus a mixed-nut platter and a fruit platter." Wei Zhao handed the menu back to the waiter.
"Very good, sir. That comes to three hundred sixty-two yuan; I'll call it three hundred sixty. Payment first, please." The waiter noted down Wei Zhao's order.
Wei Zhao casually drew four hundred-yuan bills from his wallet and handed them over. "Keep the change as your tip. No need to give any back."
"Ah? Thank you..." The waiter was taken aback, then hurriedly took the money. Wei Zhao did not look like any big spender—he had the travel-worn, faintly melancholy look of a man down on his luck—and the waiter had not expected a tip. At that thought he could not help feeling a twinge of regret: the drink he had recommended was far too cheap. Clearly this customer in front of him was not short of money!
But the order was already placed, so the waiter could only bide his time and push the higher-commission items later. He brought out what Wei Zhao had asked for, then withdrew to one side, his eyes fixed on Wei Zhao from time to time.
A cautious man like Wei Zhao easily saw through the waiter's thinking, and smiled inwardly. He had been worrying about how to find someone to probe for information, and here the waiter had delivered himself right to him—like dozing off just as a pillow arrived!
Putting on a show, he drained the Seven-Color Whiskey in one go, nibbled at a few nuts, then raised a hand and beckoned the waiter. "Waiter?"
"What can I do for you, sir?" The waiter came trotting over, his face wreathed in smiles. He had gotten a clear look at the thick wad of cash in Wei Zhao's wallet earlier.
"This stuff has no kick. Do you have anything a bit more stimulating?" Wei Zhao chose his words with skill—"stimulating," not "better liquor." That left room for the imagination!
Conch Bar was a Red Conch stronghold; Wei Zhao did not believe for a moment that no drugs were sold here. And these waiters could not possibly be ignorant of what went on behind the scenes!
Of course, to ordinary customers they probably would not peddle drugs—the risk was too great—but it was different with rich spenders, who might well become repeat customers. And when that happened, what awaited the waiter was a fat commission.
Sure enough, at Wei Zhao's words the waiter's expression shifted slightly, and he lowered his voice. "We have ecstasy. Would you like a little thrill, sir?"