"This is the place, no doubt," Fan Quan said calmly.
Ke Mingye took off his raincoat hood and silently looked around. He could see the Cowherds, framed by large portraits on golden-wired walls, wiping windows, and cleaning the floor. At that moment, they all turned their gaze toward him, their expressions unfriendly.
"They don't seem very welcoming," he said in Chinese.
"Indeed," Qing Meng said.
"Are they going to fight us?" Ju Zipi asked.
As soon as the words left his mouth, two Cowherds quietly shut the club's main door.
Meanwhile, a Cowherd wiping glasses at the bar, another cleaning the floor, and yet another replacing wall paintings, simultaneously turned around, pulled out a handgun from nowhere, raised the barrel, and aimed it at the four people's heads.
Ke Mingye stood emotionlessly at the front of the group, both hands in the pockets of his raincoat. He remained unmoved, the rainwater flowing down the hem of his coat and soaking his pants.
