Chapter 253

Ejiao is holding her cell phone.

Transfer!

Unexpected and unexpected.

The light of the mobile phone screen is dazzling in the dark room. Mo Beiting twisted her eyebrows, pulled the mobile phone out of her hand and glanced at it casually, "what are you looking at when you don't sleep?"

The light of mobile phone reflected Mo Beiting's changed face. He sat up from the bed with his eyes still on the sentence, "what's the matter with mom?"

Yi Qiao didn't think it was necessary to say it, but he saw it and didn't have to hide it.

She is very calm to tell the truth: "a car accident, hospitalized."

Mo Beiting turned on the light, and with a trace of sleepy eyes, he was obviously angry, "Shen Yiqiao, what do you think? You didn't mention such an important thing. Are you angry with me, or do you think I don't need to know? "

Yi Qiao a face calm wait for her to finish saying, "don't need to know."

Mo Beiting was quiet for a few seconds, threw the mobile phone back to her, took it and went out, "I won't come back to sleep tonight."

When he passed the cloakroom, he took out a suit of clothes from the cloakroom. Men's clothing styles are ordinary popular, and they are well matched.

For him, to find out which hospital Chen Qing transferred to is just a matter of phone call.

Twenty minutes later, all the floors and bed numbers of Chen Qing's hospital were sent to his mobile phone.

Mo Beiting drove out of the villa. Instead of seeing Chen Qing, he went to the villa of Yayuan on the east bank!

It's too late.

Chen Qing should have fallen asleep. Even if she hasn't fallen asleep, she probably doesn't want to see him. She has just been injured and hasn't recovered. She can't have too intense emotional ups and downs.

Yayuan on the east bank is a little far away from Repulse Bay. Mo Beiting drove there, and it was already early in the morning.

There were lights on in the villa and voices of conversation.

The car stopped.

Immediately someone opened the door and came out, "three little."

"What about people?"

The man was wearing a white shirt and a thin black windbreaker. The night made his clothes very black. He was like a ghost coming out of hell.

He had a cigarette between his fingers, flickering as he walked.

The footstep is neat and simple, steady and powerful!

"In it."

Mo Beiting stopped before entering the door and took a smoke with a cold eyebrow. "Where is he going?"

The bodyguard felt that he was different from the previous dark momentum, and he was more careful, for fear that he would be annoyed by any words.

"The ticket is from Lyon, France."

"Lyon, France?" Mo Beiting gave a sneer, with a kind of bloody sense of seeing.

Culture and Art Center, he, also with?

Mo Beiting walked in, his cold face had no extra expression, and his straight clothes made him slender, neat, and full of a fierce cold dark temperament from the inside to the outside.

As soon as he walked in, the atmosphere of the hall became tense.

The bodyguard who was sitting on the sofa chatting in twos and threes stood up and dropped his head to one side, "three little."

Mo Beiting looked at the man who knelt down suddenly when he saw him in the middle of the hall, "untie him."

A bodyguard pulled out a sock stuffed in a man's mouth and cut off the rope tied on his wrist. The man climbed over with his hands and feet. "San Shao, it's not me. It's really not me."

The man's body shrank into a ball, shaking violently, and the muscles on his face convulsed slightly because of tension. He stared at the man's stiff suit pants and polished spotless black shoes.

There was panic in his eyes.

He had contact with this man once. Mo Beiting just said a few words, even understated. The position they chose was very dark, and he hardly saw the man's face.

But in his cognition, Mo Beiting's aura is strong enough, even if he just sits there, it can't be ignored.

As he approached, the man on the ground was shaking like chaff.

Mo Beiting was so cold and mean that he could not help but stop begging for mercy? Do you know what I came to you for? "

There was no sign of anger on Mo Beiting's face, and his voice was the same as usual, but his gentle and elegant appearance made people feel bloody and violent.

He came up to him and stopped.

It's noble, and it's always elegant.

Mo Beiting threw cigarette butts on the ground, sparks splashed, and the Handmade Persian carpet was hot out of a groove. He raised his foot to crush it. The man kneeling on the ground looked at Mo Beiting stepping on the cigarette butt to grind it. He only felt that his foot was stepping on his head.