Ming Ke: I'm exposing the truth in the winery, true and false

"She..."

After listening to Binga's description of the situation, Gin held the cigarette in his mouth and kept his hand on the cigarette lighter, but he never lit the cigarette. He even ignored Binga's legs on the car seat.

Vodka opened his mouth wide enough to fit an egg, gave Binga a thumbs up, and said admiringly: "Brother, you are awesome, so you almost got killed by the bomb you planted!"

"I really don't know how you got the code name," Gin sneered, put the cigarette lighter back, lit the cigarette in his mouth with a match, exhaled a puff of smoke, and said slowly: "Tomorrow you will go to the organization training base to learn to dismantle bombs for two years."

"What did you say?" Binga stared at Gin in disbelief. Asking him to learn how to dismantle bombs for two years, what's the difference between that and going back to school? Who is he humiliating? !

"Don't just grow eyelashes without brains. A 25-year-old has the IQ of a 15-year-old," Gin said in a tone that was not to be rejected. He even snorted and ordered Vodka, "Vodka, drive."

"Ah? Ah!" Vodka's CPU was spinning like crazy. Why was Big Brother so rude again? No, Big Brother was not rude. There must be something wrong with Binga's eyelashes. "Yes, Big Brother."

"Gin! You bastard..." Binga suppressed the urge to strangle Gin. His face was hideous and terrifying. He stared at his position, wishing he could tear him apart and stomach him.

The wind blowing in from the window brought a strand of silver hair into Binga's sight from the gap in the middle. Suddenly, his hand grabbed it uncontrollably and pulled it back hard.

"Hiss~" Gin felt a pain in his scalp. He saw from the rearview mirror that Binga was grabbing his hair with a provocative smile and raised his middle finger at him. The veins in his eyebrows suddenly jumped. He took out his Beretta and ordered Binga, "Let go."

His voice was low and sharp, like the growl of a wild animal hunting its prey, and every word seemed to be squeezed out of his throat.

"Hmph! I've tolerated you for a long time." Binga wrapped the strand of silver hair around his hand twice again and held it tightly in his hand, wishing he could tear it off along with his scalp.

Vodka, who was driving, was trembling and shouting in his heart.

God!

Oh my God!

Binga actually dared to pull his elder brother's hair.

It's over! It's over!

Should he drive directly to the organization hospital or the laboratory...

Maybe we can save him if we drive him to the hospital.

If the patient cannot be rescued, it will not be too late to send him to the laboratory.

Ahhhhh!

Why did he want to pull big brother's hair?

Gin saw Binga's defiant and arrogant expression and discovered that he was not wearing a seat belt. One leg was still on the seat, with his elbow supported by his knee and his middle finger raised. He stopped trying to pull the trigger and instead used a dagger to quickly cut off the strand of hair while shouting, "Stop the car."

Vodka has a strong execution ability and he slammed on the brakes.

Before Binga could adjust his body to steady himself, he was thrown back and hit the seat in front of him. Inertia bounced him back and slid between the seats, and his whole body was stuck in the gap between the front and rear seats for feet. He saw stars from the impact, and then he felt the space getting smaller and smaller, squeezing him into a line.

"Ah--Vodka, you are tired of living, ahhh, stop, don't lean the seat back."

Gin stopped moving his chair back, pursed his lips and glanced at Binga, but the slightly upturned corner of his mouth showed that he was very happy now.

"What are you going to do?"

Vodka looked back and saw Binga stuck under the seat. His brother's seat... um... was much different from his own, and it squeezed Binga into a position with his legs curled up.

"Send me to the hospital." Binga almost gritted his teeth and spat out these words.

Concussion!

Definitely a concussion.

When there is a mission, bombs are the most dangerous; when there is no mission, Gin is the biggest danger.

TMD!

It is absolutely incompatible with Gin's Porsche 356A, and he gets hurt every time he sits in it.

"Go to the hospital."

Gin's voice was calm and no emotion could be heard, but Vodka could clearly feel that his brother was very happy.

He didn't understand why his elder brother was happy when his hair was pulled.

If Binga knew what Vodka was thinking, he would definitely roar, "I'm still stuck under the seat!"

Or it was Gin who blocked it on purpose, how could he not be happy!

Binga felt depressed after being sent to the hospital for examination.

I felt extremely aggrieved and had no idea who to vent my anger on.

Looking at Vodka's busy figure, he asked, "Has Shirley submitted the progress of her experiment?"

"Well, I've handed it in. Your method really works." Vodka had to admire Binga's deterrent power. Shirley, sitting in a wheelchair with splints, could get the work done with just a flick of her finger.

In the past, I was so slow that my progress in a month was not as fast as that in a day after being "beaten" by Binga.

The point is that the eldest brother said that the Boss was very satisfied.

"Tsk, that's boring." But then he thought of the bullet turning, looked at Vodka, hesitated for a moment, and asked tentatively: "Vodka, under what circumstances can a bullet turn?"

"what?"

Vodka stared at him with a strange look, then took two steps back and shouted outside, "Doctor, come quickly, call the brain department and the psychiatric department together, the patient in bed number one has a brain problem."

Binga heard Vodka yelling, his veins throbbing, he grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, "Asshole, who are you calling mentally ill!"

"Brother, you can't hide your illness and avoid seeing a doctor. You are still young. If you are sick, see a doctor as soon as possible." Vodka caught the pillow thrown at him, and his tone softened a little. He didn't bother with the mentally ill.

"Get out, get out, get out, all of you!" Binga gnashed his teeth in hatred. He really didn't know how Gin could tolerate Vodka's atrophied brain.

Vodka returned to the car, looked at Gin as if he wanted to say something, stole a glance at him while driving, and then drove silently.

"Speak." Gin ordered coldly. He really couldn't stand Vodka's strange behavior.

"Brother, why don't you let Binga take a break from studying bombs and let him go to the Organizational Psychology Department first," Vodka considered his words and repeated Binga's words to Gin in full, "He's having hallucinations now, and it's getting worse."

Gin remained silent, and the situation in the car remained deadlocked.

Vodka didn't know what his elder brother meant, so he didn't dare to say anything and just drove silently.

buzzing.

A phone call broke the silence at the scene.

Gin picked up the phone and found that it was Boss. He pressed the answer button and his tone became much more respectful.

"Boss, what instructions do you have?"

"Gin, Vermouth reported to me that Binga killed her during the mission. In the mission, infighting between code members is not allowed. He is your subordinate, and I want to hear your explanation."