Qiao Qingyu did not take the piece of paper, glanced at the work ID, and then retracted her gaze, her brows furrowing slightly as she carefully recalled standing by the car door, facing it, indeed feeling a pair of hands pushing her from behind.
She looked into the other person's eyes, which seemed open and honest, but the more perceptive Qiao Qingyu still insisted on going to the police station to make a statement.
Zhao Gang did not hesitate at all, guiltily holding Qiao Qingyu's handbag and saying, "You can go anywhere you like, but I think you should go back and rest now."
Because Qiao Qingyu's face was pale as a ghost, her lips bloodless—she had indeed been frightened.
Qiao Qingyu glanced at him, pursing her lips and shaking her head.
They entered the police station, where Zhao Gang's account matched what he had said earlier.
