Chapter 170

He walked through the human wall without looking sideways, and the elevator mirror reflected his arrogant jawline.

When the neon lights first came on, the tail lights of the private plane swept across the airport runway.

Just as Jiang Taixu stepped onto the gangway with his sandalwood staff, Gongsan Pingbalang opened his arms to meet him: "With the arrival of the Grand Uncle-Master, Huacheng is about to change."

In the back seat of the extended Bentley, he took out his phone and pulled up the surveillance screen: "The Underworld restarts, the Blessed Land appears, these two big fish..."

"Good! Good! Good!" Jiang Taixu's white hair trembled, and his dragon-headed staff hit the ground heavily, "This old bone of mine came worthily!"

Jiang Wenfeng in the passenger seat looked at the neon lights flying past outside the car window, his knuckles pinching deep marks into the leather seat.

The scene of that rainy night three years ago when Zhang Yuru cried and said "Let's end it here" appeared on the windshield again.

Just as the car stopped steadily in front of the revolving door of the Four Seasons Hotel, Jiang Wenfeng pushed the door and jumped down: "Grandfather, I'm going to see an old classmate."

Jiang Taixu looked at his great-grandson's rushing back, and a flash of light appeared in his turbid eyes: "If this child hadn't self-abolished his cultivation to delay ascension, he should have climbed the Heavenly Ladder two years ago." Gongsan Pingbalang gasped, and the cigar in his hand almost fell.

At this moment, in the underground garage of the Jiutian Building, Liu Zhiming's Maserati was patted with bangs.

The moment the car window rolled down, Jiang Wenfeng squeezed directly into the passenger seat: "Where does Zhang Yuru live now?"

Liu Zhiming looked at his old friend's scarlet eyes and stepped on the accelerator: "That loser Lin Yu has long rolled away; she goes to Miao Street to deliver food every day..." Before the words fell, the navigation had locked onto the Zhang Group.

Downstairs in the white-collar apartment in the twilight, Zhang Yuru just turned around the flower bed with a thermal bag and bumped into a pair of burning eyes.

"3026 days." Jiang Wenfeng's voice trembled, "You cut your hair short."

Liu Zhiming took the opportunity to stuff the key into his palm and disappeared at the end of the path in the blink of an eye.

"I'm going to Miao Street..." Zhang Yuru took half a step back, and the cartoon sticker on the thermal bag shimmered.

Jiang Wenfeng suddenly grabbed her wrist, and the longing accumulated over three years gushed out: "What kind of ecstasy soup did that loser feed you? Back then he..." The words stopped abruptly.

The fragrance of Angelica sinensis drifting from the thermal bag was clearly the medicinal soup Lin Yu loved to drink most.

"Let me take you there!" Jiang Wenfeng's hand on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

He remembered that during his college days, he always peeked at Zhang Yuru's profile in the library; at this moment, her slender back carrying the thermal bucket overlapped with his memory.

Zhang Yuru took half a step back, and fine dust rose on the bluestone road: "Really no need, I'll return after delivering food to Lin Yu."

"Just on the way." Jiang Wenfeng tapped the BMW logo with his fingertips, and his watch refracted cold light in the morning light, "I heard he left with nothing?"

These words were like a needle stuck in Zhang Yuru's shoulder; she raised her head suddenly and bumped into the smiling eyes of the other party, "The demolition in Miao Street now makes the environment very messy."

The sound of tires crushing broken bricks tore through the silence of the alley.

In the rearview mirror, Zhang Yuru's knuckles holding the thermal bucket were white.

Jiang Wenfeng saw a dark red scar peeking out from her sleeve.

Three years ago, during the fire at the Jiang Group, it was said that Zhang Yuru rushed into the fire and dragged out the unconscious Lin Yu.

"Which room does he live in?" Jiang Wenfeng suddenly braked. In front of him was the gray "Zhongcaotang" plaque hanging askew, and the bitter medicinal fragrance drifted from the door crack.

Zhang Yuru almost bumped open the car door and rushed in, and Jiang Wenfeng followed onto the mess on the ground: the overturned copper medicine scale pressed against the yellowed medical records, and the Angelica slices scattered into strange hexagrams.

"Lin Yu." Zhang Yuru's trembling voice scared away the smoke on the beams.

A rustling sound came from the attic, and Jiang Wenfeng narrowed his eyes and looked: a pale hand reached out from the end of the wooden ladder, with dark red cinnabar stained between the fingers.

Lin Yu almost rolled down, his oversized shirt hanging empty on his shoulders, and the old scar from the fire kiss still remained on his collarbone.

Zhang Yuru knelt on the futon and scooped soup, the porcelain spoon making a crisp sound.

Jiang Wenfeng leaned against the door frame, watching the morning light pass through her drooping hair, casting golden lines on the thick calluses on Lin Yu's palms.

When the bowl of soup hit the bottom, Lin Yu suddenly grabbed Zhang Yuru's wrist, and the red rope bell on her wrist made a clear sound.

A dump truck roared past outside the window, and Jiang Wenfeng touched the cold Profound Sect jade plaque in his pocket.

The "Hidden Dragon in the Abyss" shown by divination last night was now reflected in Lin Yu's deep pupils.

"Eat slowly!" Zhang Yuru looked at Lin Yu who was eating hurriedly.

Jiang Wenfeng smiled: "This ex-husband is really miserable..." He deliberately crushed the bluestone slab on the threshold with the tip of his leather shoe, making a harsh scraping sound.

"Get out!" Zhang Yuru gripped the handle of the thermal bag tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Peripheral vision swept over Lin Yu who was burying his head in eating; that wrinkled white coat reminded her of the chain car accident in the emergency room last night.

As a special consultant for the municipal hospital, he should have been saving people in the operating room.

Jiang Wenfeng took out a gold-plated lighter and played with it, the flame flickering in front of the hundred-seed cabinet of Zhongcaotang: "Is it worth it to guard a freeloader? I heard the Changan Qin family just canceled the Zhang Group's order..."

"Lin Yu is the direct disciple of the Medical Immortal!" Zhang Yuru's suddenly raised voice scared away the sparrows under the eaves.

She clearly remembered the scene half a year ago when the old man of the Qin family was carried into Zhongcaotang on a stretcher, and Lin Yu snatched a person from the hands of the King of Hell with three-inch silver needles.

The hand wearing the Vacheron Constantin suddenly pressed against the door panel, and Jiang Wenfeng approached half a step: "Don't forget you are single now, and I can bring the Zhang Group back to life." He glanced at Lin Yu, who remained silent, and sneered before slamming the door and leaving.

The porcelain spoon "clanged" against the bottom of the bowl, and Lin Yu wiped his mouth and stood up. Only then did Zhang Yuru notice a fresh blood mark on his neck, looming under his collar.

"Don't come again in the future." He suddenly gripped her wrist, the force frighteningly large.

"What are you going crazy about?" Zhang Yuru shook off his hand and knocked over the food box, and the Eight Treasure Porridge flowed down the mahogany diagnostic table.

From this angle, she happened to see the reflection inside Lin Yu's white coat.

That was a Glock with a silencer, and the gun handle was engraved with a dark emblem.

Jiang Wenfeng's Maserati honked its horn wildly outside the door. Lin Yu turned and walked toward the back hall, his footsteps pausing, and the moonlight cut a boundary between light and dark on his profile through the carved window lattice: "Zhang Yuru, there are some games you can't afford to play."

The sound of porcelain breaking came from the second floor of the Jubao Pavilion.

Han Feifei lay stiffly on the bed, the coldness of her frozen disease making even her sneer look distorted: "Doctor Jiang still knows how to come back?"

Before she finished speaking, she was pressed onto the bed, and Lin Yu's fingers, smelling of medicine, accurately pressed her convulsing spinal nerves, his peripheral vision sweeping outside the window.

Three black off-road vehicles were slowly driving into the antique street.

Han Feifei endured the soreness all over her body and joked half-jokingly: "Junior brother, why don't we try?"

Lin Yu's fingertips didn't reduce their force: "Reason?"

"At my age, I haven't tasted a man yet; how unjust would it be if I became paralyzed one day." She deliberately twisted her waist, and when she felt the massage hand deliberately lingering on sensitive parts, a sweet, greasy panting overflowed from her throat.

Lin Yu's breathing became slightly chaotic, and the temperature in his palms rose sharply. Han Feifei took the opportunity to turn over and hook his neck: "The first-night right of a big star, doesn't Junior Brother want it?"

"Not now." Lin Yu's Adam's apple rolled, "If I'm still alive three days later..."