Mr. Hou, My Wife Doesn't Want You Anymore.

On the wedding night of Jingan Hou Xiao Yi, I heard him comforting the crying Zhao Yiyi outside the window: "She is just a decoration." >Five years later, when I returned with the Jiangnan Trade Route, he was marrying his wife in the red silk shop street. >"Master Hou, the old man is dead." I smiled and handed over the half-burned marriage certificate. >He kicked open the door of my courtyard that night, but the short arrow in my sleeve was pressed against his throat. >"Mother!" A soft childish voice suddenly sounded, "Why is this uncle kneeling on the ground crying?"