Chapter 1937
Chapter 1937: If You’re Alive, I’ll Forgive You (2)
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3 min read
Perry Reed stood angrily in place.
He watched Flossie Wright leave, with a fierce rage and dark aura in his eyes, as if about to swallow everything.
When Flossie went to get the motorcycle, she encountered Ice.
"Where are you going this late?"
Ice glanced at her and asked with a furrowed brow.
"What about you?" Flossie retorted, raising her eyebrows and pulling out the keys.
"Just taking a walk."
Ice stood in the shadow of the tent, gazing at Flossie, his words were indifferent.
It was almost like a casual brush-off.
"I’m going for a ride."
Flossie mounted the motorcycle, her tone was equally dismissive.
Ice watched her, his brow slightly furrowed.
In the end, he didn’t say much.
"Be careful," Ice advised after a while.
Flossie quickly replied.
Then she started the motorcycle and sped away in an instant.
Ice stood quietly in place, watching Flossie leave.
A faint worry flashed across his expression.
Late night.
The time had passed midnight.
The campsite where Eastlandia’s peacekeeping forces were stationed was more bustling than expected.
A new batch of injured and sick had arrived, and the entire Medical Forces were swamped, anyone with some medical knowledge rushed to help, the patient area of the camp was hectic but the busy doctors were orderly.
Moreover, those standing guard nearby the camp were tense, not allowing even a fly inside.
Flossie Wright was already familiar with the Eastlandia’s peacekeeping forces’ campsite, having passed by here several times before, knowing the layout very well.
There were houses and extended tents, surrounded by an electric grid on the outer perimeter to prevent anyone with ill intentions from intruding.
When Flossie stopped at the gate with her motorcycle, she keenly sensed the two soldiers standing guard tighten their grip on their guns, their vigilant eyes scrutinizing her.
"Don’t move!"
"Take off the helmet!"
The two exchanged a glance, then shouted at Flossie one after another.
Their language was local.
A bit off, but clear enough for others to understand.
Flossie took off her helmet immediately, then she got off the motorcycle.
The two soldiers, in a guarded mood, saw only a woman leave the motorcycle and walk straight over.
She was a woman who matched their country’s aesthetic.
Slender eyes and brows, a small face, tall stature, not battered like other local residents they saw. In contrast, this woman’s attire was akin to a biker from their country.
If only they had knowledge about clothing, they would find that the woman’s outfit was all brands from their country.
Her dress was sharp and relaxed, a leather jacket with jeans, two slender long legs were simply enviable, every move attracted others’ gaze.
"I’m looking for Glenn Hutchinson."
Flossie approached, not awaiting their inquiries, she explained her purpose directly in Eastlandian.
They were slightly stunned, then exchanged a glance.
"May I ask who you are?" one hesitantly asked Flossie.
"Flossie Wright," Flossie slightly furrowed her brows, answered calmly, "He knows me."
Her pure Mandarin obviously earned their favor.
Here stood a person from Eastlandia.
No doubt about it.
In this place, they naturally held some goodwill and indulgence for people from their country.
— End of Chapter 1937 —