Zhao Wenping patted Zhang Xiaobin, "You wait here, I'll go buy a bottle of milk. I've heard drinking milk can relieve spiciness."
"Master is really committed to solving the case!" Zhang Xiaobin secretly decided to learn more from his master in the future.
Qian Zhijie took in a breath, deliberately glancing at the tofu brain vendor as he passed, thinking to himself that Zhao Ming might have a point. In this nearly forty-degree heat, the vendor was wearing a black suit, which was indeed a bit odd.
As he walked out of Night Market Street, Qian Zhijie got into his car, grateful that the car windows were tinted dark. In the dim light of the night, no one could see what was going on inside.
He slumped over, stuffed the water bottle into his crotch, and a very comfortable expression appeared on his face.
Five minutes later.
The four of them were gathered around a small table, on which lay only a paper tube containing some kind of indescribable liquid.
