The man's right ankle was twisted unnaturally, and his left wrist was bent at a strange angle. His face was covered in blood, and the fear in his eyes was clearly visible.
"Bang!"
The bodyguard threw him in the middle of the hall.
The man grunted, but he did not dare to cry out in pain. He only raised his head with difficulty and looked around the scene. Finally, his gaze landed on Chen Shimei's face.
"Young… Young Master Chen…" His voice was hoarse, and he sounded like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry… I messed up..."
Pa.
The last string in Chen Shimei's mind snapped.
He opened his mouth and stared at the killer on the ground with wide eyes, as if he wanted to confirm that this was a disguise.
But that face, that deliveryman uniform, and that special scorpion tattoo on his wrist -- they all matched.
Three days ago, in the private room of the underground bar in the south of the city, it was this man who had crushed a glass with three fingers in front of him.
