Han Bridge Street, under the cold, quiet night sky, a group of Ghost Fire youngsters gathered.
Inside the white Mercedes G-Class, Zhuang Jianhui looked at the arrogant young man outside the car window. The other party was holding a steel pipe, leisurely tapping the glass; at that moment, Zhuang Jianhui's arm inexplicably ached.
Zhuang Jianhui lowered the car window, his handsome face showed a sincere apology: "Buddy, I'm sorry, we didn't see the road clearly just now."
After he finished speaking, Wei Zishan quickly shouted: "Brother Hui, you?"
She could hardly believe that this scene was happening in reality.
If he had ignored it, it would have been better, but Zhuang Jianhui surprisingly capitulated, which somewhat exceeded Wei Zishan's expectations.
Compared to the Zhuang Jianhui who was sharp and unyielding at the An City Government Office when he was young, this him now seemed too easygoing.
Actually capitulating to a small-time hooligan...
