The window of the co-driver's seat rolled down.
Mo Shangjun looked down and caught sight of a familiar profile; her hand instinctively reached for her waist, but—she hadn't brought a weapon today when she went out.
An item was thrown out from inside the car window.
Mo Shangjun reached out to catch it, finding it to be a dagger, a very common style.
She checked it, there was no problem.
Through the window, her cautious actions were clearly observed, thin lips curled slightly, carrying a tinge of self-mockery.
"Dare to get in?" Bai Chuan asked.
Clutching the dagger in her hand, Mo Shangjun lowered her brows in thought for two seconds, then she opened the co-driver's door and got inside.
Bai Chuan glanced at the way she held the dagger.
Then, he reminded, "Seatbelt."
Her brow moved slightly, Mo Shangjun buckled her seatbelt, glanced over at his left foot, and asked coldly, "Is your foot healed?"
Bai Chuan sneered, asking back, "Want to see?"
