At Tuojiang Wharf in 1988, Chen Fei was a well-known drunkard and a joke among the neighbors.
Who would have thought that these hands, which could only hold wine bowls, were once the most stable knives in the dock?
A sudden change occurred, the red oil in the hot pot restaurant was overturned, and the brother's blood was still cold. Chen Fei dropped the bottle at that moment, his eyes were colder than a knife.
Since the tide of the times is going to swallow people up, let's see whether it is the ruthless outsiders or the "local snakes" of this old dock who are more cunning.
In this turbulent Sichuan and Chongqing rivers and lakes, now that I, Chen Fei, have woken up, no one can sleep peacefully.
