The three of them hastily caught a taxi and headed straight to a wholesale farmers' market.
A kind-hearted citizen handed the phone back to Gao Yurong after finishing the call with Shen Jiahui. Gao Yurong didn't ask who was on the other end of the line; he just pressed his blood-stained forehead with one hand and grabbed the person next to him with the other, asking, "Where's the person?!"
"What person?"
"The person my car hit."
This guy's head must have been hit pretty badly.
The front of the blue BMW hit a trash can; where would a person come from?
"I say, young man, let's have you sit down first. We've already called an ambulance to come over."
"Where are they?!" Gao Yurong was gripping the other person's collar more fiercely, his face looking like a madman straight out of a mental institution.
Several people around quickly stepped in to prevent him from choking the innocent man.
