Am I about to get set up again?
Amid the long haze and chaotic thoughts, Huai Shi suddenly shuddered and felt a headache coming on—the persecution radar was reacting!
Death Sense flashed and vanished.
Could Old Turtle be trying to screw me over again?!
"Mr. Huai Shi? Mr. Huai Shi? Are you listening?"
Across from him, behind the desk, the clerk in sunglasses looked up from his report and glanced over in confusion. "Did you just zone out?"
"No, no, no, I didn't!"
Huai Shi shook his head solemnly, then looked around with curiosity. "Where is this?"
"Secret." The clerk answered expressionlessly. "You'd better not ask about things you aren't supposed to know."
"Say, haven't we met somewhere before?"
Huai Shi scratched his head, leaned closer, studied him carefully, then reached out and tugged off his enormous sunglasses. He froze in astonishment. "Why do you look exactly like Old Liu?"
"Be serious, we're talking business here!"
The clerk slapped the desk in irritation, snatched back his sunglasses, and put them on again. "Who's Old Liu? I don't know him—go sit down!"
"Fine, fine, why are you getting so angry?"
Huai Shi returned to his chair, but his gaze was soon drawn to the scene outside the window.
Amid faintly festive music of wind instruments, strings, singing, and percussion, a line of people in black suits and sunglasses suddenly appeared, carrying a huge wooden box on their shoulders. Singing and dancing, they swayed before the window, staring into the room.
As if waiting for something, they looked cheerful and expectant.
Under those gazes, Huai Shi felt an inexplicable sense of unease. He could not help glancing behind him. "Ahem, what are they doing?"
"Hm? That?" The clerk picked up the form in his hand without much concern. "Probably some new maintenance