Before dawn, 3 a.m.
Song Xuyan, with a nervous heart, came to the hospital's underground parking lot and found a black Trumpchi M8, gently tapping on its glass.
The car window rolled down, revealing the driver as none other than Lin Mo, dressed in a black windbreaker.
Seeing Lin Mo's haggard appearance, Song Xuyan paused for a moment.
But he didn't dare to ask too much.
One shouldn't meddle in what they shouldn't know, and that much he understood!
Sometimes, even the smallest piece of information could cost you your head!
Song Xuyan looked around, took out the prepared bag, and whispered, "Mr. Lin, everything you requested is in here."
Lin Mo took the bag, opened it to glance inside: high concentrations of sevoflurane, desflurane, a few scalpels, and some high-dose injectable anesthetics.
Everything he had asked for was inside.
After confirming that nothing was amiss, Lin Mo repackaged the bag, nodded, and said, "You've worked hard; here is your payment."
