"What's the situation outside now? Any leads yet?"
In the hospital room, Meng Jiye whispered, holding a peeled apple in his hand.
Standing by the bed, Qiu Zhaobin put down the fruit knife and shook his head.
"Nothing yet, haven't heard any whispers."
"Crunch."
Meng Jiye frowned slightly, took a bite of the apple, and muttered to himself, "There really are a lot of lunatics out there now."
With a personality like Shi Zhenhua's, there would probably be quite a few cursing him to death behind his back.
Assassination,
This wasn't the first time, not something to make a fuss about.
But to play with bombs.
This isn't the West.
Such a method equates to a terrorist attack, completely crossing the red line.
It was outrageous.
Of course.
If they weren't so insanely heartless, they probably wouldn't have succeeded.
"Lucky you reminded me to sleep in the room instead. Otherwise, I might be lying in the ICU now,"
Meng Jiye chewed the apple flesh and sighed with residual fear.
