Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 133 Orange Juice
In Washington, D.C., in the early evening of June, it was still light and the heat of the streets had not yet dissipated.

The bar is located near Capitol Hill, and a black sign hangs at the entrance with "Slate & Oak" painted in gold.

The woman leaned back on a bar stool, wearing a black dress that clung to her skin, the edges of her collarbone gleaming.

The watch on my left wrist is an entry-level mechanical watch.

It is reliable, practical, understated yet not shabby.

"If you keep sitting here without saying anything, I might have to drink my third glass."

She said with a smile, turning her head to look at the man next to her.

Zhou Yi lowered his head, took a sip of his drink, and didn't reply, but his eyes looked over her shoulder at the television hanging above the bar.

The channel was muted; it was a broadcast of a press conference.

Reporters crowded into the FBI command center.

A spokesperson in a dark suit is speaking against a backdrop of a row of hanging federal signs.

The woman glanced at the TV following his gaze, then shrugged: "If you're so interested in the news, I might as well just send you a monthly housing market report."

Zhou Yi put the cup back on the table and wiped the water droplets off his fingers.

How's the housing market today?

The woman was taken aback, propped her elbows on the table, and leaned a little closer to him.

"Not bad." Her tone was light.

“Especially customers like you, who pay in full, are straightforward, and don’t dawdle. If I could meet two like you every week, I could take a vacation early at the end of the year.”

The woman smiled after speaking and raised her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

The lights above the bar slanted down, casting shadows under the eyelashes.

"But it's quite amazing. The first time I showed that house to someone, they signed the contract without even asking any questions."

She glanced at Zhou Yi, trying to catch some emotion on his face. "Let me guess, you're an investor? You have a keen eye and you act quickly."

Zhou Yi casually told a lie, but out of the corner of his eye he was still observing the report.

The news was still playing, but the reporter's voice couldn't be heard. All that could be seen was her standing outside the police line, her lips moving and her eyes blinking constantly.

The subtitles scroll continuously at the bottom of the screen:
"The suspect's identity is currently unknown, and the case is still under investigation."

The FBI is investigating whether the shooter used a modified long-range strike system.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" the woman asked suddenly, seemingly casually, yet clearly with a hint of anticipation.

“My home is in Arlington. There are three oak trees and a hanging chair on the balcony, which is very comfortable when the wind blows at night.”

The TV screen finally switched.

That was a video shot with a handheld device.

People scattered and fled outside Hart Building, the camera shaking violently.
In the blurry image, one can see someone being lifted onto a stretcher, their head partially obscured by mosaic.

Just then, my phone vibrated twice in my pocket.

Zhou Yi took it out and looked down—the caller ID showed: Lucas Carter.

Seeing this, he stood up and pushed his chair back, saying, "I'm going to answer a phone call."

The woman's expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her smile, nodded, and said, "I'll wait for you."

Zhou Yi didn't say anything more and turned to walk outside.

As I opened the door, a wave of heat hit me.

The streets were already stuffy and hot in the early summer evening, mixed with the smell of car exhaust.

Zhou Yi took out a cigarette case from his pocket, took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a lighter.

A spark flew, and the call was connected.

"Hey."

"Where are you?" Lucas asked directly.

"In America, what?"

“Come to my house at seven o’clock.” Lucas paused, then added, “Have a meal, and we need to talk about what happened today.”

"I didn't do anything." Zhou Yi stared at the smoke dissipating into the air.

“Hmm,” Lucas chuckled, as if he had heard an old joke, “you really ‘did nothing’.”

Zhou Yi ignored his hint: "Of course, I already said that." Lucas, however, had no interest in continuing the wordplay and simply said:
"Don't play dumb. I've read the preliminary report. No one else but you could have done this."

"At a range of 1,149 meters, under such a firing angle, and with the added interference of the heating barrier and the GPS reference offset, it was still possible to hit the target."

"To be honest, even in Prague, this kind of operation would be a good example to use as a training exercise."

Zhou Yi didn't respond, neither admitting nor denying, but simply flicked his cigarette ash.

“Don’t worry,” Lucas sighed, and continued, “I’m not here to settle scores with you today.”

“I don’t care how many of them die, and I have no intention of getting involved. Besides, you’ve cleaned things up very well this time, leaving no loose ends.”

"So—today is just a meal, Sarah is here too, mainly about the seven-figure mission."

Didn't you mention some changes just two weeks ago?

“That ‘change’ has been dealt with, so the plan continues.”

"."

"Don't be late at seven o'clock today."

After hanging up the call, Zhou Yi stubbed out his cigarette and threw it into a roadside trash can.

He then strolled towards the parking lot, casually sending a message to the woman still waiting in the bar:

"Something came up, so I have to go now. I'll contact you another day."

After sending the text message, Zhou Yi stopped checking his phone.

It was nothing more than a failed negotiation.

At this moment, the sky gradually darkened, with a few traces of orange-pink twilight still lingering at the horizon.

The city lights were not yet on.

A gentle breeze blew by, and the temperature finally became comfortable.

Zhou Yi got into the car and started the engine.

It's less than two hours until dinner.

He still has two things to do:

First, prepare something decent for dinner.

Second, complete the final task.

The bell rang.

The girl looked up and saw an Asian man walk in, moving very quietly and making little noise.

He first stood at the doorway and looked around before approaching the counter.

"Are you looking for something special?" the girl asked instinctively.

The man stopped about an arm's length away from the counter and calmly said, "I don't know anything about wine, just recommend any bottle."

The girl nodded and was about to head to the wine section when he suddenly added something.

"However, the budget is limited."

The girl turned around and looked at him: "About how much?"

Zhou Yi reached into his pocket and said, "Twenty, that's all."

Oh shit.

I'll do it for the sake of the seven-figure sum.

Otherwise, I'd consider it generous of me to give him some bagged orange juice.

The girl was a little surprised, but she still bent down and took two bottles from the shelf on the side of the third row.

It's cheap, doesn't taste bad, and has a decent bottle design that won't embarrass you at the dinner table.

Zhou Yi was too lazy to examine it carefully, so he casually picked up one of the bottles and said, "This one will do."

"Nineteen yuan and seventy-nine cents," the girl quoted the price.

"No need for change." Zhou Yi handed over the banknotes and turned to leave.

The girl stood behind the counter, and after the door was completely closed, she couldn't help but mutter to herself:
"You're acting all high and mighty just because you only have twenty yuan to buy wine."

(End of this chapter)