Chen Feng pushed the chipped aluminum lunchbox to the corner of the table, then pulled a red cloth bundle from his canvas bag.
The cloth was rough cotton, its frayed edges gone white, with a few dried crumbs of medicinal herbs clinging to it. He untied the stubborn knot. Inside, five large red cards, neatly folded, were stacked in a row.
The paper showed its age, and the four gilded characters, "A Match Made in Heaven," had faded to a dull yellow.
"Is that all?" The middle-aged man standing opposite him nudged his gold-rimmed glasses. The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. "Young man, these days you have to scan a code just to buy a bunch of scallions at the market. And you're bringing this thirty-year-old relic to a blind date in the top-floor office of the Su Group headquarters?"
