Fu Jing Rong stepped out of his office without a word. His face was blank, but his steps were sharp—controlled urgency behind every movement.
"Wei Ling, what—" Fu Ling started.
"No one follows me," Fu Jing Rong said without turning around.
Then he was gone.
Fu Ling blinked. "What the hell was that?!"
He immediately made a move toward the hallway. "I'm checking the cameras. Something's wrong!"
But before he could reach the panel, Wei Ling caught his arm.
"No," Wei Ling said flatly.
Fu Ling looked at him like he'd grown another head. "What do you mean no? You saw him! What if something happens again?!"
"I know where he's going," Wei Ling muttered, his eyes following the path Fu Jing Rong had taken. His tone had lost all its calm.
"Then let's go there!" Fu Ling snapped, tugging at his arm.
Wei Ling didn't budge. "No. Not yet."
Fu Ling wanted to scream. But the look on Wei Ling's face said more than words could: something was really wrong.
---
