"Ding-a-ling…"
Just as Song Jiaqi hesitated whether to use firearms or not, a rapid ringtone instantly came from her pocket.
She took out her phone and saw it was from her father, Song Zhifeng.
She hurriedly answered the call, "Hello, Father..."
But before Song Jiaqi could utter another word, a torrent of scolding from Song Zhifeng erupted from the other end of the line.
To know, although Song Jiaqi often caused trouble outside, her father Song Zhifeng rarely chided her, and when he did, it was usually gentle. But this time, Song Zhifeng was practically roaring.
"Father, I..."
Song Jiaqi's lips formed a pout, her voice choked with grievance.
"Cry? Cry for what! You almost got me killed!"
