Old Master, have you ever been beaten by a Pokémon?

In the sunny park, some energetic young people were strolling leisurely. Some of them were holding real dogs, those cute little guys were running happily, and their tails were wagging like rattles; others were holding uniquely shaped mechanical dogs, they were walking in neat steps, flashing a sense of technology.

At this moment, a man in a black hoodie caught my attention. He held a golden and crispy dough stick in his left hand and a bowl of steaming wontons in his right hand and placed them on the table in front of him. The table was located next to a flower bed surrounded by bushes in a corner of the park, with a quiet and pleasant environment.

The man would occasionally glance down at the watch on his wrist, as if anxiously waiting for someone to arrive. At the same time, he would occasionally raise his head and look around vigilantly.

At his feet, there was a box of drinks. The two sides of the box were hollowed out and covered with a layer of transparent plastic film, so you could vaguely see some of the boxed drinks inside.

"When will this bastard come?" The man couldn't help but curse in a low voice, his annoyance becoming more and more obvious. In order to avoid attracting too much attention from others and make himself look less strange, he quickly took out a delicate mechanical stick from his arms.

I casually placed it on the table, and I heard a slight clicking sound. The part where the end of the mechanical stick touched the table automatically pressed down and cracked, and in the blink of an eye it turned into a stable triangular bracket shape.

Then, the man stretched out his slender fingers and gently swiped them. A screen appeared on the surface of the seemingly ordinary mechanical stick. As he operated it skillfully, the screen quickly switched to a movie he liked to watch. So, the man ate breakfast while watching the movie absent-mindedly, and continued to wait for the guy who had not appeared yet to show up.

"Hmph!" A contemptuous snort came from the man's nose. His sharp eyes like a hawk were fixed on the screen. The corners of his mouth slightly raised, revealing a disdainful smile, and he sneered: "Look, these little brats who are still wet behind the ears only know how to play around like this. Do they really think they are the so-called gangsters? It's ridiculous! How can the real gangsters be so superficial!"

At this moment, the screen was showing a fierce fighting scene, people were fighting each other with various weapons, blood was splattered everywhere, as if the whole world was dyed red. However, facing such a bloody and violent scene, the man did not care at all, and did not even blink.

Although people kept passing by and noticed that he was watching this kind of film, he remained unmoved and motionless like a sculpture.

At this moment, an abrupt voice broke the silence. "Hey! You guys are eating wontons while doing business and watching this kind of movie?"

A tall, muscular man wearing a stylish sportswear and cool sunglasses stood quietly beside a simple stone table. In his hands he held a box of beautifully packaged milk, as if it had an extremely important mission.

"Hey! Can you guys be a little more sincere?" Suddenly, the man yelled in dissatisfaction, with a hint of anger and helplessness in his voice.

"No, brother, don't get excited. What are you afraid of? We are just sending each other milk. It's such a simple thing! Besides, I'm just eating a bowl of wontons here. What's the matter?

Isn't this good? I look so ordinary and common. I can't be like on TV, where everyone wears a black suit and carries a silver-white box that is obviously filled with drugs or money.

That look is too deliberate, as if he is afraid that others don't know that he is different from others, as if he has to write the words "I am a bad person" on his face!" As he spoke, the man kept chewing the last wonton in his mouth, his cheeks bulging, looking a little funny.

After saying this, the man pointed to the computer screen in front of him, where a trading scene was playing. The characters in the screen were all dressed in suits and carrying silver boxes, with serious and stern expressions.

Faced with the man's blunt questioning and accusations, the person on the other side was stunned at first, and then nodded thoughtfully, as if he felt that what the man said made sense.

"Well, although I have always thought that you are a complete fool, but when I think about it carefully, what you just said is quite interesting. Here, take it, this box of milk is ten thousand yuan, and here is a total of two hundred thousand yuan, all here."

The man wearing sunglasses and looking grim walked slowly to the stone table and sat down gently. He skillfully and casually placed the beverage box he was carrying on the other side of the stone table.

Then, he raised his head slightly, looked at the other person through the black lenses, and said with a barely perceptible smile: "That's right! Look, this is the item you've been dreaming of. We are so familiar with each other, there's no need to count the items in front of each other, right? Besides, this place isn't a good place to show off everything."

To be honest, who says that gangs have to choose a remote place in the dead of night when no one is around to make deals? These two people just don't believe that! So, they chose to complete the deal in the early morning in this busy park! I have to say, this bold idea is really novel and unique.

However, facts have proved that although this idea sounds good, they seem to have overlooked a crucial factor - this seemingly ordinary way of transaction, for those passers-by who do not know the truth, there is nothing wrong with it.

But if one day they happen to run into someone who is looking for trouble and is specifically targeting them, it would probably not be easy for them to escape even if they wanted to so early in the morning when there are people all around.

"Then...then let's..." The man in sunglasses stopped talking halfway, as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat.

The man sitting at the table eating wontons looked up impatiently, still chewing a mouthful of delicious fillings, and muttered incoherently: "What? That's the bad thing about you, you always leave your words unsaid! Can you please be more straightforward?"

When his eyes fell on the trading partner, he couldn't help but widen his eyes, and the spoon in his hand almost fell to the ground. The man in sunglasses raised his hands high, his face was full of panic, and his body was shaking slightly.

Behind him stood a thin young man, holding a "long stick" wrapped in a cloth bag in his right hand, with the front end firmly pressed against the back of the sunglasses man's head. Judging from the shape and position, the sunglasses man must have mistaken the "long stick" for a black gun muzzle.