"We can't leave yet," said a man I never met. I watched as he approached Bai Long Qiang. He had a machete-type knife strapped to his waist and a giant backpack on his back. "We are missing the sheets."
"Look, Zhong Yong Zheng, you are a good guy, and I really don't have a problem with you. But there is no way I am hanging around to look for 500-count sheets or whatever the fuck they are called," argued Bai Long Qiang, keeping his voice down.
I looked the newcomer up and down, completely agreeing with my man. The sick feeling in my gut was increasing with every passing second, and I knew it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan.
