The room suddenly became eerily quiet. Song Zhiwei and Yang Weihua were silent. Dai Xiang's face was stiff, with a strange expression of nervousness and confusion. His eyes widened, as if he was meeting Zhang Huaqiang for the first time. The pair of hands that held him. It doesn't matter if the hand is loose, and it doesn't matter if it doesn't.

There is a kind of suffocation in the air that makes people unable to stay for a moment.

"Uncle Zhang, why?" Song Zhiwei asked ...