The next day, in Ai Qing's office.
Behind the desk, the teenage girl rested her cheek in her hand as she scrutinized Huai Shi, who sat opposite her. "So, what's with this getup?"
"It's a long story..." Huai Shi muttered.
Wearing a full-coverage helmet, his voice was muffled and certainly couldn't come through crisply. In fact, it wasn't just his face that was covered. From head to toe, he was wrapped in layers of airtight clothing: an outer cut-resistant layer, a middle filling layer flowing with liquid latex, and an innermost sealing layer—practically biohazard-level protection. Not an inch of skin was exposed anywhere on his body.
He looked utterly ghostly.
Walking down the street, he had been stopped by the police several times. If it weren't for the Special Affairs Department's badge, he wouldn't have made it to Ai Qing's place.
"A long story?" Ai Qing raised her eyebrows. "Then give me the short version."
Huai Shi struggled for a while, not knowing how to explain.
