Jiang Yanbo's home.
The phone kept ringing, a figure was making dumplings in the kitchen. With the year-end approaching, it was time to have a good meal.
Realizing someone was calling, Jiang Yanbo rushed out quickly. After answering the phone, urgent sounds and a burst of noise came through.
A bit puzzled, Jiang Yanbo brought the phone closer to his face.
After closely checking the caller ID and phone's origin, his expression instantly tightened.
"Old Zhao! Old Zhao, is it you? What's happening?"
"Old Jiang... he's here, they're all here... ugh."
The voice sounded extremely distressed, and you could hear the person on the other line start to sound pained, nearly suffocated by fear.
"Old Zhao! Old Zhao, speak!"
Jiang Yanbo's voice grew louder and louder; the other end became increasingly noisy too, with sounds of things being cut and sharp inhalations, making one very uneasy.
Jiang Yanbo kept shouting into the phone, but it was no use; there was almost no response.
