Fusheng Tribulation

A generation of orders, a love and hatred. Where are the flying catkins and flying flowers, the layers of ice and snow destroying them, and the sparse trees at midnight. The bright moon is good for loving him, and being haggard is also relevant. Finally, after the silken threads have shaken, they turn to teach people to recall the Spring Mountains. The dream of skirt is intermittently difficult. How much hate the west wind blows away the eyebrows. "Miss Qingsi," he said without looking back after walking a few feet away, "this time we say goodbye, there will be no time for you and me to have sex." "I hope so." Qingsi whispered. She stared at the wine bottle on the ground for a long time, then bent down to pick it up, lifted her veil and took a sip, then sprinkled the rest on the ground: Father, please bless your daughter, this time she must successfully kill the old thief Shengjiang and avenge her mother and brother!" At that time, the waning moon was like blood, and the long wind was like singing. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.