Lawrence Winters was animated, sitting down and taking big bites of double-skin milk with a spoon while mumbling into a voice ssage: [How could you leave out of sothing so great! This counts as a good deed!].
Kenneth Osborne laughed and replied: [Then you better hurry, I heard your curfew is eight-thirty. It’s already ten past eight].
Lawrence looked at the ti on his phone and quickly finished his double-skin milk, then went to find Nick Zeller in his slippers.
"Uncle, Uncle! Give the keys to your Wuling Hongguang, I’ll be right back!"
Nick Zeller was enjoying his own double-skin milk in his room when Lawrence yelled from behind, nearly causing him to choke.
He finally managed to swallow, pulled the keys to the Wuling Hongguang out of the drawer, and tossed them to her, frowning, "You’re going out now? Rember to be back by eight-thirty!"
"Got it! I’ll definitely be back!" Lawrence caught the keys, blew a kiss to Nick, and hurriedly ran out.
But quickly returned, holding the door fra, and asked Nick, "Uncle, you calculated for , how many hurdles do I have today? Just one, right?"
Nick waved his hand behind him without turning back, "Just one, it’s already over, go have fun."
So he didn’t stop Lawrence.
Even with his toe, he could guess who called her out.
Lawrence, from childhood until now, actually only had Kenneth Osborne as a good friend.
Nick was quite tolerant of her hanging out with Kenneth.
Lawrence felt more at ease, secretly made a V-sign in her heart, and happily went downstairs.
Upon reaching the parking lot, she t up with Kenneth to find Nick’s car together.
Nick had many cars and also bought many parking spaces here.
Lawrence searched for a while before finding the inconspicuous Wuling Hongguang.
Kenneth took the car key and went to start the car.
Lawrence took out two hooded robes and two masks from the trunk, one set for herself and one for Kenneth.
She also took two covers and first covered the front and rear license plates.
This cover was actually a fake license plate, which was very risky to use during the day and easily spotted by traffic police.
But now it was late, and with the New Year approaching, the streets were empty, and most of the traffic police were on holiday, so the two of them weren’t worried about any accidents.
Kenneth and Lawrence put on the hooded robes and masks, and with a rev, drove the Wuling Hongguang out of the parking lot.
Gregory Quinn’s house was in the family area of the old cotton mill district.
The area hadn’t been redeveloped yet, still ho to the older generation of cotton mill workers.
Lawrence navigated while talking, "Gregory just bought a house in our neighborhood with Brooke at the beginning of this year. I heard it’s all renovated, and Gregory’s parents are also moving in."
Kenneth frowned, "How big is the house they bought?"
"Didn’t your sister tell you? It’s just a two-bedroom, one-living-room..." Lawrence said in surprise, "I heard it was your sister’s down paynt."
Kenneth: "..."
He turned the steering wheel, got on the road to the old district, and said reluctantly, "...Why should I ask? It’s my sister’s marital ho."
If he asked too much, so might even think he was "coveting" his sister’s property...
Kenneth had a natural understanding of social conventions more profound than his parents and sister, which could rival his Aunt Joan Lawson.
Lawrence thought for a mont, then nodded in agreent, "You’re right. If you ask too much, it could seem suspicious to so."
She giggled and whispered, "... even if you don’t ask anything, so folks in our neighborhood call your sister a ’brother-supporting demon’..."
Kenneth curled the corner of his left lip dismissively, "I don’t care about that, as long as my sister doesn’t overthink it."
Lawrence gave his shoulder a hearty slap, praising, "That’s right, a younger brother should support his sister! — Oh, you don’t know how much I wish for an older brother or a younger brother..."
"Aren’t I your brother?" Kenneth gave her a sidelong glance. His phoenix eyes, long and narrow at the corners, ford a striking curve when he glanced sideways, carving a mark into one’s heart.
Lawrence chuckled, her baby face puffing up with a soft, delicate apple-like contour, "I want a real brother by blood, your position doesn’t count."
Kenneth thought, I never wanted to be your real brother anyway.
He dropped the topic, watching the increasingly dim streetlights and uneven asphalt road ahead, and asked, "Is the cotton mill community just up ahead?"
Their forr ho wasn’t in this area but by the grain bureau, so they were a bit unfamiliar with this neighborhood.
Lawrence peeked out, nodded quickly, "Yes, yes, have you figured out what to do?"
She pulled out a baseball bat from beneath the car seat, looking delighted, "A baseball bat imported from the United States, made entirely of wood. My uncle says it’s made of walnut, very sturdy. You won’t be considered Brooke’s real brother if you don’t bash Gregory Quincy bloody!"
Kenneth took the baseball bat from her, smirking coldly, "I’m a civilized man who understands reason and law, why do I need to get all ssy and bloody?"
Lawrence’s eyes widened, "What? Aren’t you going to beat him up?!"
"Always thinking about blood," Kenneth used the bat to gently lift Lawrence’s chin that was dropped open in surprise, flashing a slightly wicked grin, "Wait and see what it ans to kill without spilling blood."
"Wow! Kenneth is so handso! Love it, love it!" Lawrence Winters exclaid like a fan chasing an idol, his large eyes particularly distinct in the dark night.
"Love what?" Kenneth Osborne ruffled her hair, feeling both amused and exasperated. Just now, his heart had nearly skipped a beat.
Luckily, he knew she was just talking casually.
Today’s young girls chase stars so much that the word ’love’ cos out without a thought.
Kenneth Osborne felt there was a generation gap between him and her.
He shook his head, took out his phone, opened the browser, and used an old alias email account to send a ssage to Gregory Quinn.
To ensure Gregory understood the seriousness, Kenneth sent it to his work email address.
Gregory Quinn received all his work emails via a mobile app to avoid missing instructions from his superiors.
His phone chid, indicating a new email had arrived.
Gregory Quinn lay comfortably on the sofa, resting on Grace Day’s lap, eating fruit his parents had washed for him, while using the remote to watch TV.
Grace was diligently massaging his shoulders and neck.
Upon hearing the notification tone, Gregory gave his phone a casual glance, then suddenly sat upright.
"What’s wrong?" Grace yelped, startled, as Gregory almost bumped her chin.
"It’s nothing, it’s nothing, I’m just going out for a bit..." Gregory said evasively, hurriedly putting on a coat, stuffing his phone into his pocket, and heading out the door.
Grace originally wanted to follow him, but when she reached the door, Gregory pushed her back inside, "It’s too cold outside, don’t go out, be careful not to harm my son."
Hearing Gregory’s concern for the child in her belly, Grace smiled so widely her eyes narrowed to slits, speaking sweetly, "Alright then, I won’t go out. Co back soon!"
"I’ll be back in ten minutes," Gregory forced a smile, "It’s work-related."
Grace was more reassured, "Alright, hurry up and take care of your work!"
Gregory nodded, closed the door, and quickly ran downstairs.
They lived in an old apartnt building with no elevator, coming down from the fifth floor made his legs weak.
Following the directions in the email, he arrived at the west side of the residential area near the entrance gate, looking around for soone.
"...It should be here..." he muttered, taking out his phone to read the email carefully.
It was an email from a stranger.
Containing only three sentences.
"I know what you did to my daughter. Co to the west side of the residential area near the entrance wall imdiately. If you’re not here in five minutes, I’ll send the photos to your boss."
The west side of the textile factory’s residential area, near the gate wall, was the quietest part of the entire area.
There were no streetlights, nor surveillance.
Even the apartnt buildings nearby were almost vacated.
Only a few gray-yellow old-style apartnt buildings stood in the darkness, blocking the majority of the moonlight.
Besides Brooke Osborne and Grace Day, there were at least seven or eight other won related to Gregory Quinn, those whose nas he could rember.
Undoubtedly, each of those won’s fathers should still be alive.
He couldn’t recall whose father it might be.
At that mont, he regretted getting involved with so many won.
He craned his neck and walked towards the wall.
Bang!
Suddenly, there was a muffled sound, like an iron rod hitting a sandbag.
Gregory’s back suffered intense pain, aggravating his old injuries with new ones.
He fell forward and landed on the ground, imdiately passing out from the pain.
Kenneth Osborne, wearing a mask, erged coldly from the darkness.
He raised his long arm and swung a baseball bat, thumping it heavily onto Gregory Quinn’s body again.
He only struck the calloused, fleshy areas, controlling the force expertly, leaving no obvious marks but causing severe muscle damage.
Lawrence Winters watched from the side, seeing Gregory’s phone drop to the ground, she stomped on it, crushing it completely.
Kenneth Osborne, face grim, delivered one final blow, striking Gregory’s back of the head.
It jolted Gregory awake again.
He cried out loud, "Help, soone’s assaulting ! Help, help!"
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