Sylvan Cheney lowered his head, took out his phone, and tapped open a Weibo, his slender fingers gently swiping across the screen.
He found a photo: "Is it her?"
The middle-aged man nodded affirmatively: "Yes, yes, it's her. She came during the day, so I saw clearly. It's definitely her. Sir, she gave me some money. I was originally planning to take this secret to the grave. I didn't expect that over a year later, you'd come to find me..."
"Oh? After tonight, will you tell anyone about my visit? Hmm?"
"No, sir, I won't say a word. I swear."
"I don't quite believe you." Sylvan Cheney squinted his eyes.
"Then how can you trust me? What do you want me to do? Tell me, as long as I can do it, I'll keep my promise." The man was anxious.
"I don't need you to do anything. I don't trust any stranger; I only trust myself." Sylvan Cheney's face bore a cunning look like a fox's. "So listen carefully, I've had people find out which university your daughter attends, her dormitory..."
