Wu Zhiguo had a rather unrestrained way of eating. As soon as the wine was poured, he tore off a chicken leg and began gnawing on it.

The restaurant’s roast chicken wasn't lean like others; this one was richly fatty, oozing savory oil with every bite—truly mouthwatering. “Excellent, delicious!

I haven't had authentic roast chicken like this in ages. Everyone, try some!” Wu Zhiguo was anything but reserved when it came to food.

With his face slicked with oil from the chicken, he gestured for everyone to eat. “Old Wu, you’re a company Vice President, heir to a major family, a man who will soon command billions in wealth—can’t you manage some decorum while eating?” Long Cheng said with exasperation.

Wu Zhiguo was a great guy in every other respect, but when eating, he shed all pretense. Looking at his table manners, few would believe he was a VP currently managing nearly a hundred million in funds; one might mistake him for a starving ghost who just crawled out of some forgotten corner.

“Eating is for filling the stomach; what need is there for fancy manners? Come, brothers, let’s toast!” Wu Zhiguo finished the chicken leg in a few swift bites, wiped his mouth, and finally picked up the wine glass before him.

This state was better; his prior appearance had been quite undignified. After taking a sip of wine, Long Cheng shook his head lightly and picked up his chopsticks.

“Everyone, try some. Old Wu has a discerning palate; anything he endorses is bound to be good!” The others each took a piece of meat from the other roast chicken; no one touched the leg Wu Zhiguo had devoured.

The roast chicken was large but remarkably tender. Though not torn apart, a single pinch with the chopsticks separated a sizable piece.

At this point, this dish was the only one they felt compelled to eat. After sampling it, everyone couldn't help but nod in approval.

Though the chicken meat looked rich, it was not greasy at all—clean, fragrant, and delicious. Wu Zhiguo’s recommendation was spot on, appealing to every one of them.

Local delicacies with a reputation generally passed muster. The other dishes hadn't arrived yet, but the two roast chickens were nearly finished; no one competed with Wu Zhiguo, allowing him to enjoy one entirely to himself.

Seeing the chicken gone, Wu Zhiguo hurried out to order two more. Coincidentally, those were the last two available for lunch; their roast chicken was always in short supply, selling out early whether it was noon or night.

The remaining two roast chickens hadn't arrived, but the other dishes they had ordered did, ensuring the food service didn't entirely halt. “The owner of this restaurant is surnamed Huo.

Legend has it his ancestors were imperial chefs during the Ming Dynasty, and even the Emperor favored their secret roast chicken recipe. Whether that’s true, no one knows, but their chicken really is superb!” Having downed a couple of drinks, Wu Zhiguo opened up and began to elaborate.

“Huo surname—that’s quite uncommon!” Li Ya chuckled softly. People with the surname Huo were rare nationwide, and anyone hearing it for the first time usually felt a bit surprised.

“Exactly! They started with a roast chicken shop, hence the name Huodian Roast Chicken (Fire Shop Roast Chicken).

Those who don't know the story think the shop actually caught fire!” Wu Zhiguo laughed wryly, causing many others to join in. Two bottles of wine had been opened; they were now over one bottle deep.

Long Feng wasn't drinking; the others had a bit. Long Feng considered himself Zhang Yang’s bodyguard and felt responsible, so he never touched alcohol while out for a meal, often eating lightly and leaving quickly afterward.

His strict demeanor made Long Cheng a little more relaxed. “Sir, this isn't yours; this is for another table.” “Their order will come later.

Our Director is currently hosting important guests. Serve us first!” Voices drifted in from outside.

The restaurant's soundproofing wasn't as good as in high-end places, and the door wasn't fully shut, so the activity outside was clearly audible. “I’ll go check.” Wu Zhiguo stood up.

He had chosen this place, and he was somewhat familiar with the staff, so his intervention might smooth things over. “I’ll go with you!” Li Ya also stood.

Wang Chen wasn't present; if he were, he would have rushed out too. When the two stepped out, they saw a man standing by the entrance of a nearby private room, tugging at a waitress who looked deeply frustrated.

The waitress held a tray bearing two plates—the last two roast chickens they had ordered. “What’s going on?” Wu Zhiguo asked quietly.

There didn't seem to be many people in the adjacent room, and they were too far to see clearly, nor did they care to look closely. “Mr.

Wu, these are the roast chickens you ordered later. They insist on having them first!” The waitress turned around quickly, explaining.

Wu Zhiguo was a frequent patron, and the staff knew him as a major executive from Changjing who supported their business well. “Friend, there’s such a thing as first come, first served, isn't there?” Wu Zhiguo nodded once, then turned to the man pulling the waitress.

The man, appearing to be in his forties, looked utterly impatient. He immediately waved his hand dismissively.

“First come, first served? Our Director is entertaining VIPs!

If we’re delayed, who among you can take responsibility? Hurry up and take them inside!” “How about this—we ordered two, but we probably can’t finish them all.

We’ll give you one, and we’ll just take one!” Wu Zhiguo frowned slightly, then spoke slowly. They had plenty of other food coming, and while the chicken was good, two more wasn't necessary.

His suggestion was considerate, and the waitress’s eyes immediately lit up with relief, nodding her agreement. “No, we need both.

Tell them to send more!” The man vehemently shook his head, absolutely determined to take both chickens into their room. This time, Wu Zhiguo’s brow furrowed deeply.

He had offered that compromise purely for the sake of harmony; they needed to leave soon after eating and didn't want trouble. But he wasn't known for his mild temper, and he certainly wouldn't indulge someone who refused courtesy.

Never mind that the restaurant was out; even if they had more, Wu Zhiguo wouldn't give them up now. “Take them to our room immediately.

I’ll handle this,” Wu Zhiguo stated directly to the waitress, completely ignoring the man beside them now. “But, I—” The waitress’s expression became even more distressed; the man had her arm firmly gripped, preventing her from moving.

“No ‘buts.’ Go now!” Wu Zhiguo suddenly reached out and slapped the man’s arm away from the waitress. The waitress felt her arm release, paused briefly, and then quickly hurried into the room ahead.

Zhang Yang and the others were still seated inside, unable to see what was happening outside, but they could hear everything. The dispute over two chickens seemed petty, yet Wu Zhiguo had offered a reasonable solution, willing to resolve the matter amicably.

The food was theirs by right; giving up half when they couldn't finish it was generous. But the other party refused to yield even an inch, demanding both.

Not just Wu Zhiguo, but anyone would have found that unacceptable. Smack!

A sharp sound suddenly echoed from outside. Everyone inside startled, and the waitress, who had been about to leave, flinched.

The sound was very distinct; it was clearly a slap, though they didn't know who had delivered it. Immediately following came shouting and curses, the loudest being Li Ya’s voice, mixed with a sound of someone groaning in pain.

“Let’s go see what’s happening,” Long Cheng sighed heavily and stood up first. After clearly hearing the commotion, the others were no longer worried, merely feeling a slight annoyance.

It was obvious from the noise that Li Ya had initiated a physical altercation—this impulsive young man, much like Wang Chen, often resorted to fighting if words failed. It wasn't the first time.

However, when they stepped out, they all froze. Wu Zhiguo stood there stunned, a bright red handprint starkly visible on his face.

Li Ya was violently kicking and punching another man, while someone else was desperately trying to hold Li Ya back. It turned out the person who got slapped wasn't the antagonist but one of their own.

“Stop hitting him, stop!” The waitress emerged, shouting anxiously nearby. Both tables held important guests whom the restaurant couldn't afford to offend.

“Bastard! Guards, call someone immediately!

Do you know who I am? How dare you hit me?” The man being beaten by Li Ya finally managed to stand up, primarily because someone was restraining Li Ya, allowing him to break free.

This man, appearing to be in his fifties, looked utterly disheveled and roared in fury. The man who had been arguing with the waitress earlier was desperately clinging to Li Ya’s arm; had he not held on, Li Ya would have kept him pinned to the floor.

The fifty-something man screamed wildly, then suddenly seemed to recall something, rushing back into the room to grab a bag. In moments, he reappeared, holding something else in his hand—a metal object—which he immediately leveled at Li Ya’s head.

The moment this object was revealed, everyone froze. The object the man held was unmistakably a black handgun, though thankfully, the safety appeared to still be engaged.

“You dare hit me? I’ll blow you away!” the man roared in rage.

Suddenly, Zhang Yang’s body shifted. As the man finished his threat, he was astonished to find the gun missing from his hand; it was now held by a young man standing nearby.

Zhang Yang looked down at the weapon, his brow tightly furrowed. Gun control in the country was extremely strict; anyone openly carrying one was clearly not ordinary.

This weapon posed a significant threat even to him. “You… you dare assault an officer and steal a gun!” The man’s face instantly turned pale, his previous arrogance evaporating, replaced by genuine fear.

He knew very well there were live rounds in that weapon; a single bullet could end his life. “Zhang Yang, can I have the gun?” Chang Feng walked up to Zhang Yang and gently extended his hand towards him.

Zhang Yang paused, then directly handed the gun over to Chang Feng. At that moment, Zhang Yang remembered: Chang Feng was affiliated with the Provincial Public Security Department.

Regardless, Zhang Yang himself held no official rank, and keeping someone else’s weapon in his possession was inappropriate. Taking the gun, Chang Feng immediately used his jacket to wipe down the entire surface.

He was meticulous, quickly removing any trace. On that gun, there were now no fingerprints belonging to Zhang Yang.

Two more votes until we hit the standard for an extra chapter—two more votes, anyone? I’ll keep writing; the next chapter is expected around 12:30 AM.