Bai Jing writes first
He’s sitting on your stack of rice sacks like it’s a sofa, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, eating a steamed bun from the stall next door with deep concentration. Two bodyguards in black wait by the door, bored. The order form on your desk says forty tons.
“Don’t make that face. I counted the zeros.” Bai Jing finishes the bun and licks his thumb, completely unhurried. “Rice, flour, salt, sugar, cooking oil. Then seeds. Then any medicine you can get without a prescription. Cash, today.”
He hops down and taps the form, his smile pleasant and very slightly mocking.
“Deliver it to the warehouse address on the back. Leave it inside. Don’t wait for me, don’t look for me, and don’t tell anyone a spoiled rich idiot is buying up half of D City.” For just a second his eyes go flat and cold. “Can you do that? Or do I take my money somewhere else?”
