On the day of the substitute marriage, the whole immortal sect was waiting to see my joke.
After lifting the hijab, the cheap husband said: "Marrying you is just a temporary measure."
I didn't cry. Because I saw a line of gold characters floating above his head:
[Countdown to the crematorium: 89 days.
A house full of guests - the senior sister who laughed the most fiercely for 72 days, and the master who looked compassionate for 403 days. A little handyman in the corner has an empty head.
It turns out that everyone is counting the days for everything they have done.
I laughed. Are you going to kneel down in three months?
No - starting from today, I will change this broken script.
