When the woman saw people approaching, she shouted with confidence.
"It's him, he's the one who hit me! I want to file a complaint, I want to call the police!"
But then, the unexpected happened.
The security guards acted as if they hadn't heard her, swarming towards her.
Someone grabbed her arm, another held onto her leg, and yet another took the chance to cover her mouth…
Ding Hao's face, charming and aloof, was covered with a frosty layer. His narrow, hawk-like eyes squinted into a cold gleam.
"You're sick, and you need treatment!"
He pulled out a syringe from his pocket and slowly walked towards the woman.
He was still wearing that crisp, handsome lab coat, but it bore a sense of murderous intent.
Qiu Zeming's wife struggled, whimpering from behind the hand that muffled her.
She looked at Ding Hao full of terror, but she couldn't break free from the strong hands that held her.
As arrogant as she had been earlier, she was now equally panicked.
