At this moment, the chef was bringing dinner to the three people on the terrace. Charles Sutton gestured with one hand and grinned mischievously, saying, “The blue crayfish you wanted, haha, please enjoy?”

Hagen stared in shock, eyes wide: “So fast?”

What amazed him was—Charles Sutton had managed to fire the porcelain crayfish shell so quickly. But Mark Shaw thought he was marveling at Charles Sutton’s skills—being able to find a blue crayfish in such a short time.

“How about it? My friend’s pretty good, right?” Mark Shaw replied with pride.

“Looks just like the real thing,” Hagen picked up a piece of the shell, clicking his tongue in admiration. “How did you do it?”

“Secret,” Charles Sutton said smugly.

“Delicious, really delicious, it lives up to its reputation,” Mark Shaw wolfed down the food, showering it with praise. But he soon realized something, and, holding a piece of crayfish meat, asked nervously, “What? Looks real…? You mean this isn’t real?”

“Just pork,” Hagen didn’t even look up. “And the kind that’s factory-farmed, force-fed.”

“Be grateful,” Charles Sutton protested, dissatisfied. “Around here, factory-farmed pigs are the best. If they’re not farmed, they’re trash pigs—those are the ones on the city outskirts, eating garbage. You want to eat that kind of pork?”

Mark Shaw immediately stopped him: “Don’t say another word, I’m about to throw up.”

Hagen swirled his wine glass: “Not blue crayfish, not even regular crayfish, and you used pork instead. You damned fraud.”

“Fake, but the shell… is really blue,” Mark Shaw turned over the shell, puzzled.

“Porcelain,” Charles Sutton answered honestly.

“How did you do it?”

“These are my tools of the trade… To put it simply: First, the clay must be fine, and the sieve mesh must be extremely fine; second, add bone ash; third, control the temperature well, fire it into a semi-ceramic, semi-porcelain. Only then can you get a shell that’s a bit flexible, porcelain-white like jade, and calcareous. As for the blue color, that’s just a simple glaze…”

Mark Shaw forcefully broke open a piece of the shell, moving so fast that Charles Sutton couldn’t stop him in time. By the time Charles Sutton tried to intervene, the shell had already snapped with a crack into several pieces.

“Really… Are you sure this is porcelain? Honestly, even if you tell me, I still don’t believe it,” Mark Shaw curiously examined the broken shell over and over.

“Sigh—” Charles Sutton let out a long sigh. “You know, it takes a lot of effort to make such a realistic shell. To control the temperature, I can only use a small electric kiln. The kiln is small, so anything that comes out is a masterpiece. With you breaking it like that, I can’t even recoup my electricity bill.”

Mark Shaw was furious: “So you mean, after I finish sucking on this thing, you’ll just wash it and put it on someone else’s plate… Ugh, you tricked me, fine, but treating guests like this—aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

“This wine is blended too,” Hagen added coldly, fanning the flames. “Maybe it’s mixed according to a certain formula. We like to call this kind of wine ‘chemical wine.’”

Charles Sutton was angry: “Stupid foreigner, don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand. What’s wrong with blended wine? Let me tell you, this isn’t called blending, it’s called ‘blending artistry.’ All the bottled wine here is blended. Only you dumb foreigners bottle it straight after brewing.”

“And you,” Charles Sutton turned his head, “What’s wrong with our chef’s carefully cooked pork? Isn’t it tasty? Let me tell you, even in a big restaurant, even if you pick out a lobster in advance, the one the chef brings to your table might not be the one you picked. If you’re lucky, it’s a pre-prepared dead lobster. If not, it’s not even lobster meat.

I’m an honest person, and we’re friends, so I’m telling you the truth—if I didn’t tell you, would you even know? Just eat your crayfish.”

Mark Shaw jumped up, grabbed Charles Sutton by the neck and said, “Friends?! Hmph, I don’t blame you for not having blue crayfish, that’s a tough ask, but tricking me like this… I’ll strangle you.”

The two of them started horsing around, while Hagen held his glass and leisurely walked to the window, leaning over to observe downstairs. He happened to see William Mason leading several attendants out of the bar and getting into a car.

“You’re in trouble,” Hagen waved, calling over Charles Sutton. When Mark Shaw heard the word “trouble,” he immediately let go and nervously followed Charles Sutton to the window.

Following Hagen’s direction, Charles Sutton looked at William Mason getting into the car, silent and deep in thought. Hagen looked at William Mason with disdain as he got into the car, and kindly asked, “Need any help?”

“Just as you said, it’s just a small problem…” Charles Sutton immediately refused. “A little sparrow can’t stir up a big storm.”

Mark Shaw asked with concern, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. To run an entertainment venue here, you have to pay two fees: one to the police, called a security fee; the other to the police’s informant, called a protection fee. That guy is the one who collects the protection fee. After taking the money, he still wants to do something else. Look at how angry he is—Yvonne must have turned him down.”

Hagen glanced at Mark Shaw, and casually suggested, “You don’t know how long you’ll be gone. I think you need to clean up your backyard.”

“Come on,” Mark Shaw didn’t catch the chill in Hagen’s tone and said dismissively, “You’re a clueless foreigner, who would you even ask for help… But, Hagen is right, you really can’t take this kind of thing lightly.”