A few days later, in the office of the shantytown.
Chen Dashan looked at Peng Hu with his slicked-back hair, asking in disgust, "Any news?"
"What have you been busy with these past few days?"
Hearing the questioning tone, Peng Hu, who was using his new folding phone as a mirror, immediately put the phone away, frowned, and looked at Chen Dashan, saying, "Brother Chen, you don't suspect my work attitude, do you?"
Peng Hu widened his eyes in disappointment.
Chen Dashan rolled his eyes, crossed his legs, and put them on the desk, leisurely saying, "Be confident, drop the suspicion."
"Damn it!"
Peng Hu scratched his head in exasperation, his mouth twitching, "It's not that I don't want to check, it's just impossible to find out. This car vanished into thin air. Multiple intersections have surveillance, clearly showing the license plate, that's not a problem. The key issue is that the person registered to this car has been dead for years, it's impossible to trace."
