1976: The President Vomited Blood!

The President Vomited Blood!

Just as the secretary was about to turn around to pass on the orders, the President called out to his secretary and said, "There's no need to inform them."1

The president knew that his power was limited, so calling them over was useless.

He picked up his jacket and went straight to the parking lot from his office.

The chauffeur, who had been on standby, saw that the President was coming and hurried to the side of the car. "Sir, I'll drive you there."

The president declined. "No, thank you."

The president hesitated for a moment. He thought that driving his official car would arouse too much attention. Furthermore, he did not know if there was a GPS tracker on the official car.

"I'll take a cab myself."

The driver looked at the president strangely. He thought that the president was a little strange. Why would he do such a thing?

Usually, the President wanted to drive this custom-made presidential car. He wanted to flaunt his position.

This time, the President left through the back door of the president's official residence and went around to another street. He hailed one of the cabs.

"Go to this address."

The President sat in the back seat and closed his eyes.

He could not shake off the image of that bloody hand. The thought made him want to retch. Of course, he knew that person that he was colluding with was not a good person, but he had no other choice. From the moment he stepped onto this ship, he could only sink with it.

"Is it here?"

The cab stopped in front of a mall. The president got out of the car and went to the mall. He bought a set of clothes and even a wig with cash. In less than half an hour, the president changed his clothes in the men's bathroom on the second floor of the mall.

He had an artistic style of long hair that flowed down his back and dressed like an artsy hipster. If someone were to face him now, they would not treat him as the high and mighty President.

The President looked at himself in the mirror. He put his hand under the tap and wet his hair. Then, he went to a nearby digital street with a large cloth bag, bought a second-hand phone, and got himself a temporary phone number.

After the call was answered, the president bluntly said, "It's me. I need to see you."

The man on the other end of the line chuckled. "The President wants to see me. Who am I to deny him?"

"Just shut up and give me the address."

The president held back his anger. Their cooperation was supposed to be running smoothly. Why was this happening to him?

"I'll send you the address later."

With that, the man slammed the phone shut and ended the call.

The president stood on the corner of the street with his phone in his hand and waited to receive the address. About five minutes later, the president received a text message that indicated the location of their meeting.

Without hesitation, the President rushed to the intersection, hailed a cab, and went to the meeting place.

The meeting place was a large art museum, which was holding an exhibition today.

The president was not familiar with the art museum. He had to look around several times before he found the exhibition hall where they were supposed to meet.

The exhibition hall was filled with all kinds of sculptures. Since it was the museum's normal operating hours, the exhibition hall was not in use.

As soon as the president entered, he saw a man in a suit with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. He looked polished and refined.

"Mr. President."

The man walked calmly to the President, whose legs turned to jelly. He didn't know who this man was.

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