In Yu Linglong's bedchamber at the moment, there was a tall, slender man in addition to Yu Linglong herself.
The man was clad in black, his attire sharp and fitted.
At first glance, his stature was tall and his posture was superb, half of his face was also flawlessly perfect.
To look at him was like beholding a dazzlingly beautiful man.
But if one also saw the other half of his face, the girls' enthusiasm would surely be quenched by cold water.
Because on the other half of his face, there was a very long scar.
He was a disfigured man of unparalleled beauty.
"Qingying, have you really found out for sure, is it indeed this thing?" Yu Linglong asked again.
Ye Qingying, who stood by her side, his indifferent eyes cast down, looked at the syringe in her hand.
"It is indeed this thing, insert it into the patient's arm, and inject its contents into the body."
His tone was indifferent, even somewhat chilly.
Yu Linglong knew that to question him further would anger him.