After My Undercover Identity Was Exposed, I Became My Stepmother's Nightmare.

The rain in March is annoying. Wu Mo stood at the entrance of the alley, looking at the dirt road that had been there for more than ten years, but now it was paved with cement. He touched his left rib, which still hurt. He was stabbed by the Burmese guy in the Golden Triangle last week. The incision had not healed properly, and tissue fluid was still seeping out from under the bandage. Three years. Three whole years.