Ding Yishan took out a stack of documents from his bag and started flipping through them. Harlem slowly picked up a kettle, poured himself a cup of hot water, and took small sips.
The four of them displayed different expressions, but fortunately, no one focused on his thoughts. They each remained silent, pondering without rushing to speak.
However, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly oppressive, like dark clouds gathering before a storm, pressing down on them, making it hard to breathe.
No one knew if it passed for two or three minutes, or four or five minutes, but just as Cheng Ye was feeling restless.
Ding Yishan finally lifted his gaze, sweeping over everyone, and finally settling on him, his tone heavy and serious:
"Zhou Changhai has defected!"
What?
Zhou Changhai has defected?
