"Put your hands on your head and squat down!"
The police officer barked with an intimidating expression, waving the gaping barrel of his gun around Zeng Yingrong's face.
This scene took everyone by surprise, even the few officers who had come over were confused.
"Xiao Zeng, do as he says," Political Commissioner Zhong said, not knowing why the other party had suddenly drawn a gun, but knowing this was not the time to act rashly.
Zeng Yingrong put down his cellphone and obediently placed his hands on his head.
Wu Ming and Bai Ruyi were also baffled, especially Bai Ruyi, whose face was filled with terror.
Seeing that everyone had their hands on their heads and had squatted down, the officer finally breathed a sigh of relief.
His colleagues inquired, "Old Zhang, what's the situation?"
Old Zhang let out a heh heh laugh, followed by a burst of raucous laughter.
He walked over to Zeng Yingrong, patted him on the waist, and quickly pulled out a sleek black handgun.
