But if that was the case, things hardly seemed much better; the image of Xia Ye bound in the dilapidated warehouse, covered with explosives, was still vivid in his memory.
Xia Xing's knuckles cracked as he squeezed out three words through clenched teeth, "Wang Dahai."
Xia Yuzheng and Officer Fu both turned to him, their expressions sinking into contemplation.
Indeed, the whole affair hinged on Wang Dahai's role.
Everything would have to wait until he regained consciousness for the questions to be answered.
**
At 5 a.m. the next morning, the sky was tainted with a light grayish-blue hue; last night's rain having persisted the whole night, it still hadn't cleared up completely.
On the hospital bed, Wang Dahai slowly opened his eyes, his vision expanding from a sliver.
All he could see were the solemn whites around him, with the steady 'beep-beep' sound of the machines to his side.
Three questions swirled in Wang Dahai's mind at this moment.
