Just as Qian Huan finished speaking, his phone rang.
His heart sank, and he quickly picked up the phone and glanced at it. The screen displayed a note from the head of the prison system.
Qian Huan's face immediately became incredibly grim, and his gaze involuntarily flicked to Zhao Xing, with countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
Then, Qian Huan took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and attempted to make his voice sound more calm and confident before slowly answering the call.
Almost not giving Qian Huan a chance to speak, a barrage of scolding came from the other end of the phone.
The scolding on the phone was full of anger; even though Qian Huan had already turned the volume down very low, the voice still pierced through the receiver and faintly reached the eardrums of everyone in the room.
Qian Huan's fingers clenched tightly around the phone case, his face extremely unpleasant:
