Liu Zheng wiped the sweat from his forehead, sat up, and decided to take a break.
He picked up the cellphone by his pillow and saw that the screen was already lit.
Glancing at the time on his cellphone, it was already past three in the morning.
But he didn't feel the slightest bit tired, so he picked up an apple, took a bite, and then grabbed a pen to continue writing in his notebook.
After finishing, Liu Zheng looked at the paper and noticed the handwriting was bold and forceful, filled with a resolute flavor, resembling a sharp sword ready to slice through an enemy's throat with a single strike.
"Is this... Wang Dahai's handwriting?" murmured Liu Zheng.
An image of Wang Dahai immediately sprang to mind, depicting a middle-aged man.
That man must be Wang Dahai.
"Wang Xiaohu... Wang Xiaohu... Wang Dahai!" Liu Zheng muttered his name with a slight smile on his lips.
He knew where Wang Dahai's daughter was; that person was indeed Wang Dahai!
