At this moment, in a dimly lit room under the overpass, nineteen injured people with missing limbs huddle in the corner, trembling in fear.
On the large bed sits a stalwart man, rugged and tough, holding a phone in one hand, his other hand entwined in a half-wrap of gauze, smiling ingratiatingly at the woman sitting on a chair, legs crossed and fiddling with a gun.
They couldn't understand why this woman, who had left, suddenly came back.
Just as Xia Weibao kicked the door in, it scared them to the core. The wounds that were bandaged with difficulty once again split open, how tragic.
Boss Tu's eyes were ingratiating as if asking Xia Weibao how about this price.
Xia Weibao frowned. Five million, enough to buy ten million bags of spicy strips, enough to last a lifetime.
But she still needs to support her husband and so many concubines, it's not enough.
So she tossed the gun in her hand, then shook her head.
