The night was slightly cold, and the black Maybach that drove through Dingcheng District looked like a bloodthirsty beast lurking in the dark.
Mo Qian closed his eyes and leaned back in the carriage chair. In a low voice, he said to Mo Xi, "Go and try to find Zhuang Huai's crew tomorrow. Don't push the rent too hard."
Looking at the young master's tired appearance, Mo Xi replied in a deep voice, "Yes, young master. I'll get it done tomorrow morning."
Mo Xi thought for a moment but still couldn't hold back his curiosity and asked, "Young master, why do you think the fourth miss is so concerned about the source of the drug? I saw Lan Ling's confession. There's nothing special about it. Those are just some people who sell black medicine!"
Upon hearing this, Mo Qian opened his eyes. In the dimly lit rear compartment, his deep voice came, "Drunken dreams are very different from ordinary low-level knockout drugs. It's colorless and tasteless ..."
