Sean snapped, his mood souring. The good vibes he'd felt from the delicious Chinese meal had vanished.
The one thing Sean despised more than anything else was being served fake wine. He couldn't believe he'd been tricked! "What a fool!" he exclaimed. "How could this possibly be fake wine?"
"It's the real Feitian Moutai!" the waiter protested, his voice rising in defense.
"Seriously, I can down fake wine in one sip!" Sean shot back, his displeasure evident. "You clearly don't understand; let your boss come out. He'll know what's what!"
Bill and the others, witnessing Sean's confrontational demeanor, stood up, ready to back him up. The waiter's face paled as he realized he was in over his head, and he quickly turned to seek out the boss.
Once the waiter left, Yu Rui approached Sean, curious about the commotion. "What's going on? You looked so happy just a moment ago. The food here is fantastic!"
"Damn it!" Sean cursed, gesturing angrily at the white porcelain wine bottle. "The best baijiu in China, but this—this is fake wine!"
The moment the group heard that, they exchanged incredulous glances before bursting into laughter. It was as if a switch had flipped; the room erupted with laughter, with Bill being the most exaggerated, collapsing to the floor and clutching his stomach.
Sean, despite his irritation, couldn't help but let out a frustrated laugh. The diners around them were bewildered, wondering what could possibly be so funny about fake wine.
Meanwhile, the boss hurried upstairs with a few associates upon hearing that trouble was brewing. When he arrived and saw the scene, he was taken aback.
"Is this the trouble you were talking about?" he asked the waiter, incredulously. "Stop laughing like idiots!"
As the boss stepped forward, Sean shot Bill a couple of kicks, scowling. "Stop laughing, will you?"
The group managed to suppress their laughs, attempting to appear serious as the boss approached. "What's the matter, sir?" the middle-aged boss in a navy wool coat asked, flanked by his companions in leather jackets.
Sean pointed at the boss, then at the open bottle of Moutai. "This wine is real, right?"
The boss frowned slightly as he glanced at the bottle. "Of course it's real!" he replied, though he looked uncertain.
"Bullshit!" Sean slammed his hand on the table, standing up in frustration. "You're a fool! You might as well go burn some newspapers!"
Taken aback, the boss said, "Sir, please watch your language!"
Sean leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. "Is it fake wine? I could drink it in one sip. How dare you try to pass off something else as Feitian? You think you can fool me?"
The boss, now visibly uncomfortable, licked his lips. Even as a Chinese man, he knew this was a difficult situation. "If you don't give me an explanation today, you won't leave here without consequences!" Sean declared, sitting back down and ignoring the boss as he picked up his chopsticks.
"Sir, I advise you not to cause trouble. Otherwise, you won't be able to eat or leave!" the boss warned, his patience wearing thin.
Sean didn't even look up, merely gesturing to Bill and the others. At that moment, they drew their guns, pointing them at the boss and his entourage.
The atmosphere shifted dramatically. Diners who had been watching the spectacle now scrambled to escape. The boss and his men, caught off guard, exchanged worried glances. They were in Chinatown, their territory, and none of them were armed.
Just moments ago, they had been laughing; now, they faced a group ready for violence. The boss swallowed hard and signaled to his men to retreat. But then, Yuri shouted, "Stop!"
"Let him shake hands with people," Sean said, still focused on his meal without looking up.
The crowd behind rushed downstairs, and the boss wiped his nose with his hand. It was hard to gauge the number of people Sean had gathered.
"Go and bring me another bottle of wine—rice wine or Fenjiu. Don't make me ask twice," Sean ordered, continuing to eat.
The boss rubbed his teeth and gestured to his subordinates, muttering about the meeting with the uncle.
Half an hour later, a group of men in cotton jackets descended the stairs. The leader, a bald old man wearing a round cap and carrying a pear wood cane, ascended to the second floor step by step.
As he reached the second floor, he spotted Sean sitting there casually, eating and drinking.
Upon approaching the table, the restaurant owner bowed and greeted, "Master Huang," respectfully pulling out a stool for him to sit.
"Master Huang, please, eat first. We can talk while we do," Sean said, gesturing invitingly. "This place serves authentic food."
"I heard that you speak Chinese well, but I didn't expect it to be this good," Master Huang replied, somewhat surprised. "I haven't caught your name yet."
"My surname is Wang—Wang Zhen," Sean replied solemnly, putting down his chopsticks.
The people around him were taken aback. "Wang Zhen? Isn't that a bit much?"
Seeing their reaction, Sean chuckled. "Wang Zhen is my Chinese name; my English name is Sean.
"Mr. Huang, let me put it this way: I not only speak Chinese fluently but also have a deep understanding of China," Sean continued, scanning the room. "I dare say I know it better than most here."
Noticing the skeptical expressions in the room, Sean sneered. "So, you don't believe me?
"Let's start from the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, or we could dive into the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States era. We could discuss the master-student relationship between Laozi and Confucius or the controversy surrounding Shaozheng Mao's execution. If that's too mythical, let's talk about Fengshen Yanyi—a more recent work that many of you have probably read or at least heard of."
"Or we can discuss Yuan Kuocheng and Shan Tianfang, or the tales of the white-browed hero. We could explore Tong Lin Chuan, Three Heroes and Five Righteousness, or Shuo Tang and Xue Rengui."
"What about Jin Yong's Flying Snow Shooting White Deer in the Sky or the stories of the laughing hero leaning against Biyuan?"
"I still hold a grudge against Dragon Knight!" Sean exclaimed, excitedly.
Having not spoken Chinese in a long time, he felt a rush of connection. His words flowed endlessly, leaving the Chinese audience around him stunned.
They stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, completely bewildered.
"You're telling me you're a foreigner!?" one finally exclaimed, incredulously.
"Yes, I am a foreigner!" Sean replied, grinning.