A perfect ten on the bullseye, the gunshot had barely faded...
Applause and cheers erupted almost simultaneously.
The people around him were excitedly discussing Jing Min's accurate shooting, and their admiring gazes all fell on him.
Meanwhile, the group of online celebrities outside the glass door, who had been posing for photos, saw the lively atmosphere inside...
They had already gathered around.
"My God, who is he? He's so handsome!"
"Such a cool and aloof demeanor, this is truly a flower on a high mountain!"
"That shot just now, was it a bullseye? That was professional level!"
The online celebrities, holding their phones, whispered louder and louder, their eyes filled with undisguised infatuation.
Some people even took out their phones, pretending to fix their hair, but actually secretly taking pictures of Jingmin's profile.
Their gazes, like sticky spider webs, silently entangled Jing Min.
Jing Min turned his head slightly and gave a cold glance at the group of chattering women outside the glass door.
The exaggerated smile and affected movements made his head throb, and the irritation in his chest flared up like flames.
He pursed his lips, his tone low and cold:
"Zhou Chen, clear the area!"
After the voice faded, the room fell silent.
But Zhou Chen on the sofa seemed not to hear.
Still nestled on the sofa, swirling a half-empty glass of red wine in his hand.
The glass cup gently touched his fingertips, making a soft, crisp sound.
He tilted his head back and took a sip, seemingly getting increasingly drunk, looking relaxed and tired.
He didn't look up, just waved his hand casually, as if to brush it off:
"Too many people, too noisy, unclear."
Jing Min's brows furrowed instantly.
She glanced at him coldly, a hint of anger in her eyes that he suppressed.
He was too lazy to waste his breath.
He turned to look at Li Yan, who was standing to the side, and silently gestured with his eyes for him to deal with it quickly.
Li Yan's heart skipped a beat. He quickly nodded and jogged towards the door.
Jing Min remained standing in front of the shooting platform, raised his gun again, and coldly aimed at the bullseye.
He held his breath, but his irritation was already evident on his face.
His lips were pressed tightly together, the corners of his lips pressed down firmly, and the veins on his temples throbbed faintly.
His hand gripped the gun handle, his knuckles white, as if he were trying to channel the anger in his heart into this shot.
"Bang!"
Gunshots rang out, and the bullet once again hit the bullseye precisely.
Cheers erupted again.
But Jing Min simply put away his gun coldly, his face even more gloomy than before.
He casually tossed the gun back onto the table, and as he turned around, he glanced at Zhou Chen on the sofa, his brows furrowing even more.
Zhou Chen remained leaning on the sofa, seemingly unaware of Jing Min's gaze.
He swirled the wine in his glass, causing the deep red liquid inside to ripple.
He tilted his head back and finished his drink, smacked his lips, and muttered under his breath:
"What's there to worry about? Just have a drink..."
At this moment, Yan Zhou, carrying a stack of documents, pushed open the glass door and entered.
"President Jing..."
He spoke cautiously.
Mr. Jing didn't come to the company today, and the documents waiting for his signature were piled up high. He picked out a few of the most urgent ones and sent them over first.
Jingmin gestured for him to put the documents on the sofa, and after flipping through a few pages, his expression grew increasingly grim.
Finally, he simply tossed the file aside and said coldly:
"Go back and have the planning department redo it!"
Yan Zhou was taken aback and quickly leaned over to look at the page Jing Min had opened. He immediately noticed the problem—the decimal point was missing, and the amount had increased tenfold.
His heart pounded, and he cursed himself for his oversight.
Logically, these documents should have been carefully checked by the secretary and him before being delivered to General Manager Jing.
Surprisingly, there were still some who slipped through the net.
He bent down and replied:
"yes!"
Jingmin's brow furrowed further. He stood up and glanced at his watch.
I've never felt time pass so slowly!
He called out to Yan Zhou, who was about to leave, his tone cold:
"Wait a moment!"
"How's the psychologist I asked you to find last time?"
Yan Zhou paused, then replied naturally:
"We've already found a batch, and we're still screening them..."
He glanced up at Jing Min and noticed that the gloom between his brows seemed to have deepened, and his face was filled with suppressed impatience. A pang of panic shot through him, and he couldn't help but ask:
"Mr. Jing, was the poison from last time not completely neutralized? Didn't Parker say it was neutralized?"
"Or... have you been having trouble sleeping lately?"
Jing Min turned around, gave him a cold glance, and said impatiently:
"Shut up!"
"That's not the issue."
Upon hearing this, Yan Zhou felt relieved, but then couldn't help but ask again:
"What is that? Mr. Jing, are you...?"
He swore he was only concerned about President Jing and had no intention of spying on anything, after all, President Jing's current state clearly indicated that his emotions were extremely unstable...
Before he could finish speaking, Jing Min interrupted him with an impatient voice:
"Hurry up, and hurry up!"
The poison has been neutralized, some of her memories have returned, and she no longer experiences insomnia or nightmares.
But right now he feels emotionally unstable, and he can't exactly tell people that his wife thinks he's sick, so he needs to see a doctor.
However, it's possible he really inherited it from his mother; in any case, he needs to see a doctor...
The glass door was pushed open again.
Jing Min glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, his expression indifferent, not even lingering his gaze.
He then bent down, picked up the gun from the table, and skillfully loaded the magazine.
Zhou Chen, lounging on the sofa, lazily raised his eyelids. After recognizing the person who had entered, he also found it uninteresting.
He picked up the bottle, poured himself a glass of wine, and swirled the liquid in the glass as if nothing was amiss.
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