By the time he returned to the apartment from Linyun, it was almost ten o'clock.
Fu Yanlin made Wen Sheng a late-night snack, then plunged back into his study to continue working.
The press conference was imminent, he had endless tasks to handle, and planned to get some done before heading back to Jiazhou.
He hadn't read much of the material when Xun Rangchu's barrage of phone calls started again.
Fu Yanlin cut off the line, but helpless against this guy's relentless new attempts from a new number.
"Do you not want to live until tomorrow, insisting on seeking death today?" Fu Yanlin cursed as soon as he answered.
He opened his mouth and found himself in the line of fire—could this Goubi be indulging in some pleasure right now?
Xun Rangchu swore an obscenity, "Old Dog Fu, if you didn't answer the phone, I'd think the old Fu had beaten you to death with a club. What good deed did you do at the party, don't you have a fucking clue?"
