Another sound echoed from outside the camp at midday.
Rong Zhi hadn't slept all night, keeping an eye on his phone, and apart from slight redness in his eyes, his emotions were relatively stable.
The tent flap was lifted, and the person entering was momentarily stunned, with the cold, hard muzzle of a gun pressed against his temple.
The faint medicinal scent mixed with agarwood hit his nose, and Jiang Gujun immediately raised both hands in surrender, "It's me, it's me, Mr. Rong, Mr. Su sent me to pick you up."
Next, the tent curtain was lifted again, and Cheng Sijia walked in.
"Miss Rong—"
Cheng Sijia quickly halted his words, staring at the figure before him for two seconds before uncertainly asking, "Young Master Jiang?"
-
Jiang Gujun patted his chest with lingering fear; he had just narrowly escaped death. Ever since he learned that Rong Zhi was 'President Fei,' he never underestimated him again, although he never underestimated him before.
