Black ink stained his hand.
Wen Mu watched Tang Si's hand, his smile deepening. Gentle yet hiding a cold, sharp blade beneath his brows.
The policeman recording beside them observed the situation, then put down his pen and looked up: "Captain Tang, would you like to take a break and have some water?"
After he spoke, the air grew silent and clear, an inexplicable low pressure slowly rising, making it difficult to breathe in such an atmosphere.
The man sat there, tossed the fountain pen into the trash bin, took a paper from his pocket, and wiped his hand. He spoke gently: "No need, continue."
Having finished speaking, he took out a ballpoint pen from his pocket and looked at Wen Mu: "Continue."
Tang Si's voice now sounded deep and husky, an inexplicable low pressure.
Wen Mu smiled slowly.
