His fingers coiled around the pen. With a slight squeeze, he managed to hold it steady and began to write furiously in the notebook.
His handwriting trembled slightly,
yet he still painstakingly recorded every piece of information he knew,
as if writing his own path to salvation.
Every word was infused with his desperate will to live and his profound awe of Chu He.
In the quiet yet tense interrogation room, time crept by. A long half-hour passed.
Shu Gaolang's brow was deeply furrowed, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead like pearls from a broken string.
Completely absorbed, he wracked his brain, carefully writing down every address he knew in the notebook, stroke by agonizing stroke.
The handwriting in the notebook, though crooked and shaky, held a grim determination—his final struggle for salvation from the dark abyss.
Chu He remained expressionless, his gaze cold and profound.
