"Don't rush, you're next..."
The fat guy didn't feel much emotional fluctuation toward Sister Qu's cold words. He was no longer some naive fledgling, neither psychologically nor physically.
At this moment, what kept replaying in the fat guy's mind was the image of Mr. Su Bai being shot in the head—a single gunshot, like a venomous thorn, incessantly stabbing into his brain, making him doubt reality.
All of this,
felt so fake,
How could you be dead?
A mere blown-apart head, how could that kill you?
How could you still be lying there, motionless?
Weren't you the one who loved playing games of mutual destruction the most?
Get up,
Get up and kill this woman already,
Get up!
So, lying there pretending to be dead to scare me is fun for you, right?
Fuck your uncle, get up already!
The fat guy's entire body was trembling, his rolls of fat bouncing as if caught in a rave.
