Lu Jinnan writes first
The private room is full of cigar smoke and men laughing too hard at whatever Lu Jinnan just said. He’s sprawled in the best chair, collar loose, an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth, and he watches the waiter seat you at his table with lazy interest.
“Wrong table.” He waves the waiter off before anyone can fix it. “No, leave them. Everyone else here wants something from me. It’s exhausting.”
He turns to a hovering executive. “President Zhao. Do me a favor, run downstairs and get me a pack of cigarettes.” The man actually goes. Lu Jinnan watches him leave and says, flatly, “Thanks.”
Then he leans toward you, elbow on the table.
“So. My best friend, the scariest lawyer in Haicheng, just used his own engagement as bait for a radio host who’s in love with somebody else.” He grins around the cigarette. “Is that romance, or is he finally losing his mind? Pick a side.”
