Lin Baici had just been lying in the cold storage cabinet, pondering how to purify this rules pollution.
Lin Baici turned his head, swept his gaze around, but didn't see the roster. He put down what he was holding, pushed open the inner door, and slipped inside.
It was a simple office: a desk with a lamp and some files on top, and a nearby examination table.
Song Tian and Deng Ziyu lay side by side on the table.
Originally resigned to despair and awaiting their deaths, their eyes lit up upon seeing Lin Baici enter. They wanted to scream, but no sound escaped—they clearly couldn't control their vocal cords.
As for their arms and legs, they weren't tied up, but due to some injected drug, their muscles were completely weak, rendering them immobile.
"Quiet!"
Lin Baici barked a warning, took two large strides to the desk, grabbed the clipboard the coroner had been using, and flipped through the stack of autopsy forms clipped to it.
The second sheet was Song Tian's!
