Several reporters became excited.

The fact that the good comrade turned out to be a tax evader who shielded rapists is enough to cause a huge uproar.

"Stop taking pictures! Stop taking pictures! Anyone who dares to take a picture of me will be exposed!" Qiao Xihe's legs trembled with panic at the thought of her appearance being published in the newspaper. She cursed loudly, grabbed the camera next to her, and smashed it hard on the ground.

You have to understand that this camera is not cheap these days; it's their lifeline.

The reporters were immediately enraged, and their questions became increasingly pointed.

"Ms. Qiao, how do you feel about deceiving the public?"

"Ms. Qiao, don't you feel any guilt towards the dozens of families of the girls who were hurt?"

"It wasn't me, it's not like that, it's all a misunderstanding..." Qiao Xihe looked at these out-of-control people, panicked and incoherent.

One microphone after another was pointed at her face, and one was even inserted into her mouth.

The scene became increasingly chaotic. Seeing this, the police quickly pushed aside the group of reporters and shoved Qiao Xihe into the police car.

The reporters were disappointed that they hadn't gotten the questions they wanted to ask. But then they remembered Yang Qingheng's situation and, like cats seeing mice, they rushed back to their previous spots. But the place was empty; there wasn't a soul in sight.

On the bus.

Song Hengjue patted his chest, still shaken.

Yang Qingheng chuckled: "Look at your courage, you've had the energy to handle any situation, why are you afraid of this?"

They were just a few reporters; a little money would have been enough to get rid of them.

As long as they don't go out, it's all rumors. Let them say what they want. There's no evidence. Just turn around and say it's Qiao Xihe's slander.