Yan Wuxu was locked in the detention room, the instant noodles they had brought her had turned cold, revealing a layer of white congealed fat on top.
The police walked in, employing every method and tactic, trying to pry some information from her mouth.
Fei Qing was dead. That man, whom she mocked and scorned, the one she considered utterly useless, was dead.
By the time he was brought to the hospital, he had already lost his pulse. He was taken into the operation room only briefly before being wheeled out again. The foam at the corners of his mouth had been wiped clean, his whole body somewhat swollen. His limbs were still bent, which, after being straightened by someone, left Fei Qing lying there swollen and stiff. When they pulled the white sheet over him, the police had also arrived.
"Miss Yan, your bar is involved in the trafficking of illegal drugs, causing someone's death," the officer said dryly as he unfurled the arrest warrant for her.
