Their hand movements were almost identical, and in the moments the car window went up and down, their lines of sight overlapped for just a few seconds.
It was through this slight gap that Mo Nanjue, with his handsome gaze, could only see a man wearing a mask and a wool hat, his entire face concealed, dressed in black, as if shrouded in boundless darkness.
The man looked back at him, and their eyes met for an instant.
In the fleeting exchange of gazes, Mo Nanjue squinted his eyes fiercely, with growing suspicions coursing through his mind. He could almost swear that the look in the man's eyes was one of hatred!
Such deep-seated hatred was something Mo Nanjue had deeply experienced himself. He knew it all too well. The man's forehead furrowed, and beside him, Tong Ran patted his shoulder, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," the man shook his head, thinking about the consecutive coincidences just now. He was sure there was a problem. He glanced at Tong Ran, "Do you have your phone on you?"
