"Alright."
"Sure."
"No problem."
"Get in the car."
Bai Chen, Long Yuehong, Jiang Baimian, and Shang Jianyao almost spoke in unison without any hesitation.
The young man in a dark shirt and trousers—with a black trench coat draped over him—went around the front of the car, came to the passenger seat, and opened the door.
He smiled faintly at Jiang Baimian. "Can you go to the back row?"
"No problem. Have a seat. Have a seat." Jiang Baimian stood up enthusiastically and made way.
After the man removed the silver rifle on his back and sat in the passenger seat, she bent down slightly and smiled obsequiously. "How should I address you?"
The black-haired, golden-eyed man frowned indiscernibly. "Qiao Chu."
"What a beautiful name." Jiang Baimian was not stingy with her praise.
"Heard that? Compare that with your name." Shang Jianyao turned his head to verbally deal Long Yuehong a blow.
