In Saint Petersburg, from the National University Library on Vasily Island, heading southwest along the main street and passing 9th Street and Vasily Island Garden, you reach the southwestern tip of the island where Naval Glory Square is located. Just a hundred ters north along the dock, there is a restaurant floating on the surface of Neva Bay.
This restaurant is called New Island and is a luxury waterborne establishnt converted from an old ship, currently one of the most popular dining spots in Saint Petersburg.
At six-thirty in the evening, a stretch Lincoln limousine slowly stopped in the square's parking area, and a chef stepped out, pointing at the New Island restaurant, and said to Song Heping, "Look, this is my restaurant. What do you think?"
By this ti, the lamps were just beginning to light up, and Saint Petersburg was already the busiest comrcial center in Russia, second to none in its lavishness, even compared to the capital, Moscow.
The waterborne restaurant quietly hovered above the tranquil and darkened sea, reflecting the colorful lights and outlines of the ship, creating a sowhat dreamlike effect.
"Not bad, pretty beautiful."
Song Heping, having a military background, lacked a sense of poetic and aesthetic flair, feeling sowhat "I'd love to compose a poem for the world, but alas, I'm uneducated, I can only say how big my boat is."
"Tonight, I will cook personally to make sure you're satisfied," the chef led Song Heping toward the ship and instructed the driver, "Go, tell the head chef that I will be cooking tonight. Have him prepare the materials and arrange everything as per the boss's standards."
Song Heping prickled at the chef's ntion of "the boss."
He has a boss?
Who is it?
However, he didn't inquire further; too much curiosity isn't always good.
So, he joked, "I've tasted your cooking long ago at Illiguo, you often cooked yourself there too."
The chef responded, "It's different here; neither the ingredients nor the equipnt can be compared to Illiguo. There, I couldn't perform to my normal standards. Try it later, and you'll see."
Once onboard, the duty manager had already been waiting at the entrance and led them toward the front of the ship.
It was then that Song Heping noticed, inside the ship wasn't just about dining; he passed several rooms with "Card Room" signs, and so doors were closed with Russian labels indicating banquet halls.
Yet, the entire restaurant seed quite empty, lacking substantial custor flow.
Song Heping rembered that White Bear had ntioned the chef's restaurant was doing very well, thriving greatly.
If that was the case, why did it seem so quiet?
Suddenly, a loud cursing voice entered his ears.
Song Heping, who understood Russian, still couldn't help but frown at hearing such crude language.
In such a restaurant, it was surprising soone used such foul language to curse.
Clearly, the chef heard it too and stopped in his tracks.
The manager whispered, "It's Colonel Igor."
The chef paused briefly, then turned into a corridor on the right.
They continued walking, the cursing noise never ceasing.
Occasionally, they could hear sounds of things being smashed too.
Song Heping grew increasingly curious.
That a person like the chef would allow soone to create such a disturbance in his restaurant?
He imdiately grew interested in this "Colonel" as well.
After traversing a passageway of about fifteen ters, a billiard hall suddenly appeared in front of them.
In the hall, there were three billiard tables, and beside one of them stood a man in his thirties wearing a combat uniform without rank insignia, sporting a beard, and swinging a billiard cue around, swinging it a few tis then suddenly smashing it hard onto the table.
"What crappy stuff!"
"Colonel!"
The chef walked straight up to the man, smiling, and asked, "What has upset you so much?"
"A cook?"
The colonel nad Igor raised his eyes to look at the cook, his gaze moving beyond his shoulder and landing on Song Heping and Jiang Feng behind him.
When his eyes t Song Heping's, both sensed the killing intent from each other.
After a mont, Igor finally said, "Cook, there's an issue with your pool cues, I've tried several and they're all uncomfortable. Can't you spend so money on the pool table instead of focusing solely on whatever recipes all day?"
The cook spread his hands, "Colonel, this is a restaurant, pool is just an extra entertainnt for our guests, it's not a professional pool hall."
"Damn it!"
Igor seed unable to refute, but his anger was still apparent. The two n playing pool with him were clearly soldiers too, just in civilian clothing unlike Igor.
Song Heping could sense sothing about these n; they were no ordinary individuals.
Soone who ca from Special Forces could detect the difference in others; Song Heping was sure everyone present was from Special Forces.
"Cool down, Colonel, let send you a fine bottle of wine later, on the house," the cook still smiling, didn't seem offended.
"No more playing!"
Igor threw down the pool cue and turned to leave.
As he passed by Song Heping, he couldn't help but take another look.
After he left, the cook instructed the waiter to clean up and continued with Song Heping to the reserved private room.
"All those guys just now are from Special Forces," Song Heping remarked.
"Yeah," the cook's voice chilled, his tone carrying a hint of disdain, "That guy was forrly with the Security Bureau forces, cos from a military family, has been in nurous wars, De Zuo, Bosnia, and even led troops in the second Caucasus wars. He's a representative of the Emperor Goose Sect, but he's been sidelined recently, so he's grouchy towards everyone."
"Emperor Goose Sect?" Song Heping heard this term for the first ti.
The cook explained, "That's right, here we have three factions: Emperor Goose, Pro-West, and the Moderate Middle. That guy idolizes Peter the Great, typical of the hardcore iron-blood faction."
Unable to resist, Song Heping asked, "Cook, which faction are you?"
"?" the cook laughed, "I'm a businessman."
Once they were in the private room and everyone was seated, the cook told Song Heping, "Wait here and have so drinks, I'll go to the kitchen."
Song Heping said, "Actually, there's no need to go through all this trouble; just let the chefs handle it."
The cook was insistent, "No way, I've never had the chance to let you taste my real cooking skills, I have to show off this ti."
After snapping his fingers, he ordered the waiter to serve them alcoholic beverages and lemon water, then he left the room.
"Old squad leader, this cook is really sothing, soone like him is actually content with running a restaurant here?"
Jiang Feng had clearly noticed as well, the cook was not soone who was content just being a restaurant owner.
Ambition is sothing you can't hide, like the claws of a beast, no matter how you conceal them, they will show eventually.
"It's best not to ask about other people's business," Song Heping said. "Curiosity killed the cat."
He didn't want to unravel the complex relationship he had with the cook nor did he want to analyze the cook's inner thoughts in front of Jiang Feng.
"Oh…"
Jiang Feng, feeling rather uninterested, began to drink his water.
At that mont, the door was abruptly pushed open.
Song Heping turned around, and it was Colonel Igor...
"Colonel, are you looking for Yevgeny?"
Yevgeny was the cook.
But Song Heping could tell, this guy wasn't here for the cook, he was here for him.
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