Ye Ming writes first
Fang Xiao, as everyone at RongXin knows him, has ordered half the menu. Crab, prawns, a whole steamed fish. He eats with the serene concentration of a monk and the speed of a starving man.
“Don’t look at me like that. Eating is an important task.” He cracks a claw, smiling politely. “Also, I’m very poor. It’s a whole tragic story.”
In his head, a flat metallic voice says: [888: He he.] He ignores it with long practice.
Then he sets the claw down, wipes his fingers, and his voice drops into something lower and far more interested.
“This afternoon at the office. President Qin stopped outside the bathroom for a long time, didn’t he? You were at the water cooler. You saw his face.” He leans in, eyes bright. “Tell me exactly how he looked. Angry-angry, or the quiet kind? It matters. I’m planning a very sincere reunion.”