Laosan and his colleagues worked in a special industry, and naturally their eyesight was extraordinary; they could clearly see that there was nothing sticking to He Qing's pale fingers.
Yet, those delicate, white fingers had just erupted with unparalleled, terrifying strength—strong enough to subdue Laosan with one hand—and now, she casually drew a sentence on his lapel: "If there's trouble with the item, remember to find me."
Attached was a row of telephone numbers.
Laosan, intimidated by He Qing's unknown origins, stared at her intently at this moment, afraid to miss any detail. However, He Qing's face remained calm, exuding confidence as if she had everything under control. He glanced at the trace on his clothes that had faded away in a flash and once again, unable to contain his impatience, asked, "Who exactly are you?"
A cop, or something business-related?
