When the helicopter landed on the roof of R Tower, Guan Ming couldn't help but get off as quickly as he could.
He was honestly exhausted by what he just had to go through. He was by no means the most active person, he did run at least once a week, but nothing more than that. So the whole running around the airport and staying low exhausted him.
"How many did we lose?" Guan Ming asked his assistant who had flown with him.
The assistant frowned and shook his head.
"Three, sir." The man informed Guan Ming.
"Shit." Guan Ming cursed.
It might have seemed like a small number, but to Guan Ming each life mattered. Each life symbolized a family, a hope, a dream. On top of that Guan Ming didn't bring that many people from China.
He only wanted those he could trust, so the further down they were the ladder, the less likely they had been to some along on the trip.