After listening to us, the chef nodded seriously at once.
"That's right. He must be some kind of deranged serial killer.
That's why Chinese Street barely gets any customers in the evenings and at night.
The local authorities also investigated every one of us Chinese business owners, while they only asked the local merchants a couple of questions and left it at that.
If that black agent hadn't tricked me into coming here, saying it was easy to make money—
I sure as hell wouldn't have come! Now this has happened too. Once my lease is up, I'm going back home to find work. I'm not staying here to swallow this humiliation."
The man was filled with indignation.
We were stunned as well. No wonder we'd heard dockworkers talking at the pier about a harasser appearing around here.
By then, Pan Ling had finished ordering.
Holding the menu, the man said,
"Alright, I'll go cook now. If any Japanese come in, I'll add some chemicals to their food. Since fellow countrymen are here today, I'll show you my real skills."
"Alright! Thanks, bro!"
"..."
As they spoke, he had already headed into the back kitchen to cook.
It was a very small place, one of those tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants.
Pan Ling ordered six dishes, all specialties: twice-cooked pork, fish-fragrant shredded pork, sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin, braised pork, and the like.
Eating food from home in a foreign country simply felt different.
At that moment, Senior Sister spoke up.
"Home is still better! Why come all the way here for nothing? Several people have already died. No one summons their souls after they die, so their spirits can't return home. They can only drift through this foreign land as lonely ghosts."
Eldest Senior Brother adjusted the bandage around his arm.
"They brought