In the interrogation room, the light was cold and glaring.
The air was filled with an oppressive atmosphere, making even breathing feel heavy.
Li Jian leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed intently on Li Xiang's expression.
That gaze seemed to carry X-ray powers, wanting to penetrate all facades.
Li Xiang sat in the chair, his body leaning back slightly.
From his wide eyes and slightly open mouth, it seemed that the surprise was genuine.
Then, he suddenly stood up, his face flushed, voice trembling slightly: "What's wrong with your police eyes?"
"This patch of skin is so good, how could there be scars?"
His eyes flickered, as if trying to conceal inner unease.
Only see his hands waving a few times in the air, impatience growing evermore obvious.
At this moment, Jiang An seemed like a bottomless lake, unaffected by Li Xiang's emotions.
He stood steadily in place, slightly tilting his head, speaking unhurriedly: "Wan, please bring a scale and marker pen."
