"Boss, when did you get back?"
Dillon, with his four-year-old daughter Dillian, was sleeping on the floor in the stable. Hearing the noise, he looked up and saw Zhang Jing, surprised and astonished.
"Just arrived," Zhang Jing asked with concern, "Are you cold sleeping here?"
Three hours earlier, at one in the morning, Zhang Jing had finally received the money.
He never imagined that Johnson would hide the money in someone else's grave.
The grave was carefully chosen; it was an unclaimed grave, the kind that's easy to open—no need to dig, just lift the heavy stone slab.
"It's not cold, it's warm under the straw mat," Ti Lung replied.
Zhang Jing breathed on his hands to warm them. "I'm cold and scared."
Lifting someone's coffin in the middle of the night is terrifying, and driving ar
