More than 11 o'clock in the evening, Alfred was still working overtime in the company. He received a chain of phone calls from Troy, asking him to immediately rush to the Imperial Court No.1.
He had to temporarily put down the work in his hand and drove there.
When he entered the private room, he was greeted by the pungent smell of smoke and alcohol. He frowned.
"Thank God, you're finally here. Help me to persuade him. He's just risking his life!" Troy pulled him over as if he had seen a savior.
Allen was lying on the sofa, holding a bottle of wine in his hand. His hair was messy, his chin had a bluish beard, and his shirt was also wrinkled and dirty. He was no longer the elegant and gentle Mr. Zong.
Alfred shook his shoulders. He groaned, but didn't open his eyes. His exp
