The accident had just occurred two hundred meters ahead, and the Porsche's owner was no longer there.
Faint, intermittent cries could be heard, enough to soften anyone's heart. Shen Jing had barely taken two steps when she suddenly stopped and looked ahead from beneath her umbrella.
The streetlights were misty.
A man in a black suit stood on the roadside, exposed to the rain, gazing down at the woman crouching on the ground.
His back was turned, so his expression was hidden. Only the Bentley at his side, with its hazard lights flashing, was visible.
Wenxin's face was buried in her knees; she hadn't bothered with an umbrella.
Her low, continuous sobs persisted for a while before she looked up at Zhou Luchen, the second son of the Zhou Family, who stood looking down on her.
Even drenched in rain, an innate nobility seemed etched into his very bones; he showed no sign of discomposure.
