"Where's the fire?" Ningxia Chuan asked, looking at the tail end of the fire truck.
Tang Si pressed his thin lips together, calming his emotions, maintaining an indifferent facade.
After the fire truck passed, he restarted the accelerator: "Hopefully, no lives will be lost. On either side."
His voice was equally light, as if this was always his demeanor, giving off a lazy yet comfortable vibe.
There are too many fires and accidents every year. There are always sacrifices, and the news of casualties is what Tang Si least wants to see.
The car gradually approached the shopping mall, where a police tape was drawn; outside it, there were many people.
Ningxia Chuan withdrew his gaze from outside the window: "Tang Si, it seems the fire is in the mall—"
Just as he finished speaking, his gaze fell on Tang Si's hand gripping the steering wheel.
It was clear his hand was tightly clutching the steering wheel.
