"Grass grass... Grass! "

Down from the fourth floor of Xiuxian Teahouse, Zhao Zhenglong kicked his valuable Porsche SUV one foot after another, kicked seven or eight feet, scolded more than a dozen times, and was still not relieved.

The four police stations were far away, and they were very relieved to see Zhao Zhenglong's weakness. Did they finally kick on the iron plate this time? But while they rejoice in their misfortunes, they are also worried. What they have just met is the leader of the highest rank. In the above sentence, they can't do it any more.

Zhao Zhenglong stopped kicking his car and turned around in situ....