Zhao Tianlong's voice was so loud that all the patients in the emergency hall could hear it.
He stood in front of Jin Liang, the custom-made white coat on his body was spotless, and the gold pen in his breast pocket dazzled in the light.
The Patek Philippe dial on the wrist reflects dazzling light.
"I...
…"
Jin Liang opened his mouth, and there was a taste of rust in his mouth.
"What am I?"
Zhao Tianlong raised his hand and slapped him again, this time on the right side of his face, "Did I let you speak?
Waste! "
The back of Jin Liang's head hit the wall, making a muffled sound.
He felt liquid flowing out of his nostrils, and when he touched it, his hands were covered with blood.
"Hey, is it still bleeding?"
