Zhou Xufang grinned, "Alright～"
Jiang Zhi then allowed her to drink.
The cell phone on the sofa rang, and Jiang Zhi answered it.
It was Tang Xiang, "Jiang Zhi."
"What's the matter?"
Her voice was rushed as she said, "My mother is with Luo Qinghe."
"The Luo Family?"
"No, she hasn't sent me the address yet. She asked me to come alone." Luo Qinghe must have suspected her and was probably planning to give her a taste of her own medicine.
Jiang Zhi asked, "What does she want?"
"She didn't say." Tang Xiang guessed, "It must be about the original recording."
It was eight forty in the evening.
On Zhangjiang Bridge, the cold wind was moist. A stretched sedan was parked by the roadside, its windows tightly shut.
The back seat was spacious with a wheelchair placed inside; Luo Qinghe sat next to the wheelchair with a briefcase on her lap.
The briefcase was open, and the light from the screen shone on her black coat.
