Not His Lucky Day
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In less than thirty minutes, Mei Xing was prepared to head out. Gone was the recuperating patient in pajama pants and a baggy sweater.
In her stead was a woman with a steely glint in her eyes and a purpose etched on her face.
Her suit, a shade of icy blue that mirrored the coldness for Feng Houyi in her heart, hung on her frame with newfound authority. She paired the fit with a shade and a black wig as disguise.
Zhiyu, unfortunately, remained hospitalized as his injuries were on the severe side. In his place were two of Lu Aotian's men, their imposing figures radiating an air of quiet competence.
Knowing the front entrance would be a media frenzy, they had opted for a discrete approach. They secured a parking lot a block away, the sleek black SUVs blending inconspicuously with the cityscape.