"Why are you wandering the streets alone in such heavy rain? Get in the car."
The boy lowered his gaze, ignoring him, and prepared to leave.
Zhao Heng immediately grabbed him, dark-faced. "What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
Without waiting for a response, he dragged the boy into the car.
Rong Xianning, with his thin arms and legs and barely any weight on him, was no match for Zhao Heng, who had been a core member of his university's taekwondo club. With little effort, he shoved the boy into the car.
Then he locked the doors, giving no chance for the boy to get out.
The boy accepted everything without a change in expression. Even if Zhao Heng were to drag him to an execution ground at this moment, he probably wouldn't even flinch.
For some reason, Zhao Heng always felt a faint unease around this boy. He grabbed a blanket from the passenger seat and tossed it to him.
"Dry yourself off."
