Li Dong looked up towards the rearview mirror. The man leaned tiredly against the seatback, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, blood streaming continuously from the large hand resting on his knee. He exclaimed, "Third Young Master, your hand..."
"Back to the company!" the man's voice held an unquestionable edge.
Li Dong had no choice but to swallow his concerns and accelerate, turning the car around toward the company.
Leng Youchen turned his head; the night wind poured in through the half-lowered window, icy and piercing to the bone. His eyes reddened as he watched the copper gates in the rearview mirror grow further and further away.
He reached out his hand as if to grasp something, but in the end, he only clasped a handful of cold, empty air.
