"It doesn't matter!" Ye Chen smiled indifferently.
"You..." Zhang Yantong slapped the table, then stood up, looking at Ye Chen. Suddenly, he seemed to see a touch of desolation in Ye Chen's eyes, and Zhang Yantong was taken aback. What kind of man was this, facing life and death, facing prison, and yet he showed such indifference? Moreover, what kind of sorrow must he have experienced to have such a look in his eyes?
Zhang Yantong's heart suddenly softened. She walked over to Ye Chen, took out a key, and unlocked the handcuffs from the Night Train. Leaning close to Ye Chen's ear, she whispered, "During the upcoming interrogation, try to tell the truth. I'll find a way to make it appear as a self-surrender, and then reduce your sentence."
