In the light streaming through the window, Chief Jones was shrouded in a rising cloud of smoke.
The tone in which these words were spoken was so certain, it might as well have said you ate two bowls of noodles.
"Oh? Why do you say that?"
Fu Qian, who couldn't possibly prove the truth of having eaten only one bowl, replied with a smile.
While responding, he even took the chance to assess the other's equipment—he carried a baton but wasn't armed with a gun.
If things got unclear, he was confident he could take him down and drive away before anyone else could come out after him, even if Chief Jones was on his guard.
Of course, that would always be the last resort, as it would greatly limit his flexibility for subsequent actions, and it was something he would avoid unless absolutely necessary.
Furthermore, from the questions asked just now, another point was clear.
The unusual behavior of the three Kateman and the aberrantly clean car were not merely his own overthinking.
