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Han Lingxue had an ominous premonition.
When she, Zhang Bowen, and Chen Wei had been bound and put in the car, Zhang Guanghui and his men had taken their cellphones and disposed of them somewhere, so they had been unable to contact their family.
“Uncle Zhang, drive faster!” Han Lingxue half-rose to her feet, her fingers tightly clutching the back of the seat, digging deep into it.
Soon, Zhang Bowen parked the car in front of the villa’s gate.
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