```
"Hiss! It looks very similar to my original one, excellent craftsmanship. Is this a top-notch high-quality counterfeit or did you find an original factory gun?"
Squadron Leader Chekhov picked up the AK-47 automatic rifle lying quietly on the oilcloth, examining it closely to find any traces of it being a high-quality counterfeit.
But the more he looked, the less he found any clue indicating it was a counterfeit, and instead, it gave him a familiar feeling, as if it was his very own beloved AK-47.
"Of course it's original, straight from the factory!"
Chen Fei took the just-prepared Martini, took a small sip, and the spiciness that went straight to his soul made his hair stand on end.
Vodka, sweet wormwood, and red sorghum, in a 1:1:1 ratio, no ice, with a final addition of a sour green plum—this was the mix concocted by the bartender specifically for Chen Fei.
If some wasabi powder had been added, it would have been even better.
"Rookie, you must be joking, right?"
