Jiang Fulai looked up, his pale eyes as cool as ever. Ming Dongheng dared not probe further. His hand trembled, and he quickly averted his gaze, placing his hand on the steering wheel.
He quickly stepped on the accelerator.
In the back seat, Jiang Fulai turned off one light, leaving only one on for Jiang He to sleep, and unfastened a button on his shirt.
He reached for the phone on the partition and dialed a series of numbers.
"Young Master," the voice on the other end of the phone was somewhat aged and very respectful, "You haven't been to MTR for a long time. The professors there have been asking about you."
"No," Jiang Fulai leaned back relaxedly, with a light from the lamp falling obliquely to his right, most of his face concealed in the shadows, his voice lazy.
"Your vital signs..."
Jiang Fulai interrupted him, "I'm taking medication."
"Medication?" The other side paused.
