Separated by iron bars, Qian Wu sat in the corner of the detention cell, idly flipping a coin between his fingers, the Queen's head and the face value flipping back and forth. His eyes were shut tight as the bloodshed that had erupted in the cold storage and the hurriedly departing figure played over and over in his mind, haunting him incessantly.
Rough, bloody, swift, like an osprey skimming over the surface of the river.
It wasn't just the nameless man's ruthlessly efficient violence that unsettled Qian Wu; he could vaguely sense an unknown force, a torrent far beyond his imagination, stealthily approaching.
"Qian Wu, right? Someone has posted bail for you, you're free to go."
Qian Wu pocketed the coin and shakily stood up.
Behind the police officer followed a man dressed impeccably, who looked like a lawyer.
"Are you Qian Wuyuan, Mr. Qian?"
Qian Wu nodded.
The lawyer bowed slightly, "Mr. Xue Wenhai has posted your bail, he would like to catch up with you."
