But it was too late.
Blood flowed from her red lips, and that smile, like a carefully crafted work of art, was forever engraved on Xiaohui's face.
Lu Yanzhi used his hand to feel Xiaohui's breath and said, "She's dead."
"Killing people to silence them is a good method."
Lu Yanzhi tilted his head and looked at Song Qingyu: "I know that no matter what I say now, you won't believe it, but I still have to say that I have nothing to do with this woman."
Song Qingyu pulled the corner of her lips.
Seeing that she still didn't believe it, Lu Yanzhi frowned fiercely.
His eyes fell on the syringe on the ground.
He leaned over and picked it up.
Alarm bells suddenly rang in Song Qingyu's mind.
She gripped the knife in the quilt tightly: "What are you going to do?"
"I will find out what's going on." Lu Yanzhi said, turned and left.
Hearing Lu Yanzhi's receding footsteps, Song Qingyu was stunned.
Could it be... that it really wasn't Lu Yanzhi who asked Xiaohui to come?
But if it wasn’t Lu Yanzhi, who sent Xiaohui?
…
Lu Pharmaceutical Company.
As soon as Lu Yanzhi entered the laboratory, he handed the syringe to the old man who came over and said, "Uncle Jiang, can you show me what's going on?"
"What's wrong?"
"Did you send anyone to the villa today?"
"No."
"Then help me check if the medicine in this syringe is the same as the one I asked you to inject into Song Qingyu last time."
"No problem," the man Lu Yanzhi called Uncle Jiang took the syringe and asked casually, "It's been so long since my last comment. The medicine I gave you last time should have taken effect on Miss Song, right?"
Lu Yanzhi's face darkened slightly.
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