The chef listened to us and immediately nodded seriously.
"That's right, it was probably some deranged serial killer.
That's why Chinese Street barely has any customers around dusk or at night.
The local authorities investigated all of us Chinese business owners from top to bottom, while they only asked the local merchants a few questions and called it a day.
If that shady 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 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 had heard dockworkers discussing how there was a harasser around here while we were at the pier.
By then, Pan Ling had finished ordering.
Holding the menu, the man said, "Alright, I'll go cook. If any Japanese come in, I'll give them a little something extra. Since fellow countrymen have come today, I'll show you what I can really do."
"Alright! Thanks, bro!"
"..."
As they spoke, he had already gone into the kitchen to cook.
It was a very small place, a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
Pan Ling ordered six dishes, all specialties—twice-cooked pork, fish-fragrant shredded pork, sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin, braised pork, and the like.
Being able to eat food from home in a foreign country felt different.
Then Senior Sister spoke up.
"Home is still better! Why come all the way here? 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 and become wandering ghosts."
First Senior Brother wrapped the bandages around his arm. "They brought it on themselves!