At one o'clock in the morning, Zhan Zhao dragged his tired body out of the building. He had not had a good rest for seventy-two consecutive hours. Murder cases continued to occur, and corpses continued to be sent to the autopsy room, waiting for him to perform autopsy tests. He was very tired now. If he could, he would just fall down and sleep. He cursed lowly, hating his own sense of justice. He was almost driven crazy by them.
"Zhan Zhao?" A deep voice sounded beside him.
"I am, what's the matter?" Zhan Zhao turned around to face the man behind him angrily. He was dressed in black, but his face looked familiar. He seemed to be that person's subordinate.
"Our boss was shot, and he's looking for you by name." The man said coldly. He really didn't know why their boss wanted to find this man who looked young and handsome but pale and tired. The most important thing was that this man was not a clinician or forensic doctor. Are you going to him for treatment or for an autopsy?
Zhan Zhao sighed and looked up at the sky, then followed the man into the car resignedly. Well, he had known for a long time that it was impossible for that person to never have any contact with him forever. Five years was probably the limit for that person, although he really hoped that they would simply not have contact with each other for the rest of their lives. However, the gunshot wound... That person...