Hot-Tempered

Faced with the sudden knock at the door, Wright did not react much, but Zhang Liu An jumped in fright, his voice rising. "Who is it?!"

"Brother An." The voice outside belonged to Xin Zi, Zhang Liu An's top subordinate.

At that moment, Yan Fen's groans and curses on the bed seemed to rise another notch. Zhang Liu An's face inexplicably burned as he roared back gruffly, "What are you shouting for? Can't you see I'm interrogating her?"

He deliberately emphasized the word "I," but his raised voice earned him an annoyed glance from Wright. "Perhaps I should not have allowed a non-professional inside."

The corner of Zhang Liu An's eye twitched again. After saying that, Wright showed him only the back of his head. Helpless, Zhang Liu An flicked away his cigarette butt, steadied his breathing, and went to open the door.

As he moved, he instinctively turned his head. With Wright no longer blocking his view, he saw his wife writhing on the bed. The convulsions in her muscles were far more intense than that, enough to split open all the open wounds left by the earlier torture and make blood seep out anew.

Zhang Liu An hurriedly turned away again. Beside his ear, he heard Wright continue speaking to Yan Fen. His voice sounded gentle and soft, yet it made one shudder. "Very good. This level is just right now. My professional judgment tells me that your cerebral cortex is currently extremely active. It is emitting information flow dozens or even hundreds of times greater than normal. I believe the door to the secrets in your heart has now opened to me..."

His steps quickened. Zhang Liu An finally reached the handle and pulled open the door. He used considerable force, yet opened only a wide crack,