Seeing the words "help," Zhang Yang's head buzzed.
It was an unfamiliar number, but Zhang Yang immediately thought of Mr. Tang.
There's no doubt about it—it has to be Mr. Tang.
"Dean Pan, I suddenly have an urgent matter and need to leave now."
Seeing Zhang Yang's anxious expression, Dean Pan quickly asked, "What happened? Do you need help?"
"No need, I can handle it myself."
After leaving the hospital, Zhang Yang immediately called Brother Zhao, whom he had only met yesterday.
The call was quickly picked up, and Zhang Yang hurriedly asked, "Brother Zhao, it's me, Zhang Yang."
"Oh, Brother Zhang Yang, what's up? Calling me for something?"
"I just wanted to ask—did Lin Fucheng come to your place today?"
"No, he usually shows up at night. During the daytime, there's hardly anyone at our mahjong parlor," Brother Zhao said, laughing.
Hearing this, Zhang Yang didn't doubt him, but pressed further, "Do you know if Lin Fucheng goes anywhere else to play besides your place?"
