"Fanzi, go get paper and pen!" Zhou Wenhui commanded.
Yang Fan always carried paper and pen with him.
They say a poor memory is better cured by a worn pen, and sometimes he needed it to jot things down.
Upon hearing the request, he immediately took out the paper and pen and laid them in front of Shen Lin.
"You know how it should be written, don't you? Write!" Zhou Wenhui pressed a beer bottle against Shen Lin's forehead and said coldly, "Write anything off-topic, and you can say goodbye to your head today."
Perhaps sensing Yang Fan and Zhou Wenhui's desperate ferocity, Shen Lin didn't hesitate this time. He immediately used his unharmed right hand to write down an admission of misusing his public position for personal gain, promising to make restitution, and also penned an IOU.
"What's this IOU supposed to mean?" Yang Fan asked coldly.
"I... I don't have that much money right now, at most, I can scrape together ten thousand," Shen Lin said with a mournful face.
