Sheng Qianxia was sitting not far from him, serving him a bowl of hot soup.
Zheng Huainan suddenly remembered this afternoon, he had drunk a lot of alcohol, and she had prepared him a warm soup to sober up.
It seemed that all the coldness was shattered by that bowl of soup into an indescribable warm mist.
The syringe he hid under the pillow was stiff, poking his spine, reminding him of what he had to do—
This hospital was his underground business, the soundproofing of this private single room on its own floor was excellent, and no one else would come in except for him.
Signal jammers had been placed all around the hospital, she would definitely be isolated without help.
No one could find her, no one could help her.
Besides, Gong Beiyao had already severed ties with her.
With the needle under the pillow, tonight, she couldn't escape her fate!
Yet, why was he so shaken, his heart, like the soup enveloped in mist, swayed in confusion.