Chapter 139: Reunion of Comrades-in-Arms

Soon, it was time for the evening banquet. Nearly twenty people seated themselves around a large dining table, while Chen Erpao, whose current status was merely that of a bodyguard, naturally had no choice but to stand.

The table was laden with numerous bottles of imported red wine, surprisingly priced at tens of thousands of yuan each. Even Chen Erpao's eyes lit up at the sight; such expensive wine was something he would never bear to buy with his own money unless he struck another windfall.

After taking their seats, the socialites chatted and laughed gaily. Many of the younger, charismatic men immediately began showering Zhang Xiaoyu with elaborate flattery. Given their status, only a superstar of her caliber was a worthy match and pursuit.

Wang Xuemei was equally poised, noble, and elegant, possessing an extraordinary temperament that also drew a crowd around her.

Liu Ming, the master of the Sea Wind Hall, unexpectedly directed his full attention toward Xuemei, seeming to lose interest in Zhang Xiaoyu and showing no inclination to retaliate against Chen Erpao and the others.

Liu Ming subtly hinted at the immense power and wealth he wielded in Keelung, observing Wang Xuemei's expression, but to his disappointment, she appeared utterly unimpressed.

He then went on to say that as long as she was willing to follow him, he would give her his full backing, propelling her to superstardom just like Zhang Xiaoyu, making her the talk of the town. Yet the result remained the same—she continued to treat him with cool indifference.

This left Liu Ming inwardly baffled, wondering if women from Hong Kong truly cared nothing for power or money, all possessing such unworldly detachment, or if perhaps his own face was simply too offensive to behold.

After the banquet, both Zhang Xiaoyu and Wang Xuemei had consumed quite a bit of red wine. Their delicate cheeks were flushed and as alluring as dripping petals, making the hearts of many men present skip a beat.

Subsequently, under the organizers' arrangements, the group headed to a nearby, sprawling nightclub to sing.

Upon entering the nightclub private room, one of the organizers immediately pulled Chen Erpao aside and thrust several ten-thousand-yuan bills into his hands. "Brother, go find some amusement for yourselves outside. Take this money, and if it's not enough, just come back for more."

Chen Erpao was no greenhorn fresh out in the world; he naturally understood the organizer's intentions. He had often heard tales of how female celebrities, wherever they went for shows or concerts, frequently faced attempts to take advantage of them. This time was no exception, and the organizers simply wanted to dispatch them to wait outside.

Had it been Zhang Xiaoyu alone, he might have considered it, as she was no rookie just starting out and naturally knew how to handle such situations. However, his own woman was inside as well, which was completely unacceptable. He immediately returned the money and even arranged for two of his bodyguards to stand guard inside the room, a move that left the organizer looking deeply displeased.

Yet who was he? He was Brother Erpao, hailing straight from Hong Kong. What did he care about some local Taiwanese cats and dogs? Really.

Chen Erpao and the remaining bodyguards found a table outside to sit down and even called over a few hostesses—though Chen Erpao wisely refrained from ordering one for himself, knowing Wang Xuemei would twist his ear if she saw.

Not long after they sat down, a sudden commotion erupted from the adjacent table, where several tattooed men were roaring angrily at a young man in his twenties.

"Are you blind, damn it? Do you know how much this jacket the boss just bought cost? Can a lowly waiter like you afford to pay for it?!" one of the men barked, stripped to the waist, his expression contorted with rage.

Another man hurled even more filthy abuses. "Damn your mother, did you grow your eyes in your ass? God knows where your mother's hole was located to have birthed someone like you! Kneel down, apologize, and cough up twenty thousand yuan, and we'll call it even. Otherwise, we won't let this go!"

The waiter was fairly tall, radiating a latent, explosive strength. His expression was resolute, carrying a hint of fury, yet he forced himself to endure it.

"I'm sorry, sir. I've actually bought this exact jacket before at the shop just around the corner at such-and-such a place, taking another turn. It costs two thousand yuan at most. I'll buy a new one to replace it for you."

These words seemed to incense the tattooed men further. One of them abruptly grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it viciously toward the waiter's head.

Everyone naturally assumed the waiter was done for, destined to end up with a split head and bleeding profusely. Only Chen Erpao's lips curled into a faint smile.

With a crisp "bang," the beer bottle shattered precisely as expected, yet the waiter's head remained entirely intact.

The man who struck him froze in disbelief, grabbed another beer bottle, and swung it again. In total, he smashed three bottles against the waiter, yet the man remained completely unhurt, not even a patch of scalp broken.

"Originally, that jacket of yours was only worth two thousand yuan, so letting you smash me twice would have covered it. But you hit me three times; treat that last one as my gift to you." The waiter's voice was icy, leaving everyone present staring in wide-eyed astonishment.

Watching him, Chen Erpao drifted down memory lane. Back before he entered the special forces, when he was still merely a reconnaissance soldier, two people in the reconnaissance company had broken records: one was himself, and the other was the waiter standing not far away—Lian Ying, who held the title of sharpshooter and had mastered an astonishing iron-head technique. Ordinary bottles were nothing; he could shatter stones with a single headbutt.

The two of them had gone together to participate in the special forces selection trials. Because Lian Ying's educational background fell short, he was immediately cut, retiring a year later. For the first two years, the two had managed to stay in touch, but eventually, all contact was lost.

Furious and humiliated, the four tattooed men leaped to their feet, some grabbing bottles and others snatching up tables and chairs, hurling them toward Lian Ying.

Lian Ying's eyes turned chillingly cold. He bent sharply at the waist, sweeping the area with his head in a reckless, charging rampage. Whether it was beer bottles or tables and chairs, everything shattered upon impact. The tattooed men were deeply shocked, but unwilling to back down, they charged at him once more.

With a loud crash, one man was sent flying, followed by several more successive impacts.

"Sigh, looks like I have to find another job again," Lian Ying sighed with utter resignation. At that moment, one of the tattooed men who had fallen to the ground suddenly whipped a sharp dagger from his waist and lunged viciously at Lian Ying's back.

Watching the scene unfold, Chen Erpao swiftly kicked a chair toward them, striking the tattooed man's arm and sending the dagger clattering to the floor.

Realizing what had happened, Lian Ying glared at the tattooed man in wrath. Suddenly executing his iron-head technique once more, he rammed his head straight into the attacker's skull.

Another crisp sound rang out. A massive bump instantly swelled on the tattooed man's head, a truly startling sight. After spinning around in a daze to count the stars, he collapsed and fainted.

"You... could it be, Brother Erpao?"

Lian Ying seemed overwhelmed with emotion, perhaps finding it hard to believe that a long-lost friend from the past had suddenly materialized before his eyes.

Chen Erpao smiled faintly. "Little Ying, haha."

Amidst the astonished gazes of the onlookers, the two men immediately embraced tightly.