After speaking, Qiao Mo turned around and went back to the bedroom.
This time, she gently closed the door.
Because she needed some quiet.
She didn't know what was going on with her. Just the thought of that possibility made her unaccountably uncomfortable.
Fu Nancheng stood outside the door looking at the tightly closed door, and also fell silent.
Early the next morning, the two went to the prison holding Qiao Dehou without a word.
In the waiting room, the two sat on one side of the silvery table. Qiao Mo clasped her hands on the table, her palms full of damp sweat, inexplicably nervous.
Fu Nancheng also lowered his gaze slightly, his thin lips pressed together.
The atmosphere in the room was serious and somber.
Not long after, Qiao Dehou, wearing a blue-gray prison uniform, wobbled into the room. When he caught sight of Qiao Mo and Fu Nancheng, his small eyes deepened a few degrees, leaving only two bright slits on his chubby face.
