Luo Xiaoqian bit her lip, worried about Leng Zimo, and stepped around the coffee table, sitting down a bit further away from him. She noticed the fruit knife on the table and quickly looked away.
...
...
United Kingdom, London.
In Qingdao, it was already late at night, but here it was still a warm afternoon. However, sitting inside the car, Leng Zimo wasn't in the mood to enjoy the sunshine at all.
After more than ten hours of flying, he finally arrived in London to meet up with Ah Sang and the others.
Upon deplaning and turning on his phone, he received a message from Xu Xia.
But "an old factory" was such a vague lead; in such a big city, who knows how many old factories there could be.
"Do your people have any news?!" Leng Zimo frowned and asked Ah Sang.
Ah Sang hung up the phone, "No news yet."
Just then, Leng Zimo's phone suddenly rang. Seeing the caller, Leng Zimo raised his hand to answer.
