Song Guanchao squatted down and patted the thug on the shoulder: "Go on, who sent you here?"
Although he suspected it was Zhou Xin, a suspicion was just a suspicion after all.
He's a reasonable person and doesn't like to wrong someone.
The thug had already recognized them as the people they had stopped earlier.
He shrank back and didn't dare to look at Song Guanchao: "What are you talking about?"
"Smack!"
Song Guanchao gave him a hard slap, then continued smiling: "There's no surveillance here. If you don't talk, I'll keep slapping."
"What do you want me to say…"
"Smack!"
"I really don't know…"
"Smack!"
"I…"
"Smack!"
After seven or eight slaps, the thug suddenly burst into tears.
Cheng Xiang and the others were speechless.
Brother, you're a thug!
Have some backbone, okay?
"Crying? You'll still get hit if you cry."
Song Guanchao smiled and slapped him again.
"Stop hitting me, it hurts, it really hurts."
