Tan Wenbin scratched his head. Having just climbed over the school's outer wall, he dashed onto the road and almost got hit by a huge, arrogant truck, momentarily forgetting why he had climbed out in the first place.
Oh, I remember now.
Damn, I need to hurry!
"Sir, I'm not feeling well, I'm going to the hospital for an IV drip!"
With that, Tan Wenbin took off running.
The old security guard, gasping for air, propped his hands on his knees, watching Tan Wenbin quickly sprint away and cursed:
"That little rascal's lying! If he's sick, how could he run so fast?"
Tan Wenbin ran all the way to the entrance of a billiard room, where a few young men with tattoos in black short-sleeves were playing pool.
In the corner of the wall was Zheng Haiyang, who was crying, with a lot of clear handprint marks on his face.
