Chu Mo looked around the room and fixed his sight on the canvas in the corner of the studio.

He asked Lu Xiaoxiao, "Do you have tape?"

"No." Lu Xiaoxiao thought of what Chu Mo was supposed to do. He took out a wooden box from the drawer and shook it with a smile. "But there's a paper clip."

A white cloth more than three meters long was quickly stitched together by two people working together.

Lu Xiaoxiao wrote a few concise and clear characters on the canvas with cinnabar paint: there is a bomb in the room, alarm quickly.

The bright red paint is as shocking as blood, because...