Dressed as Ying Zheng's brother Ying Jing, he pinched Zhao Ji's shoulders and feet for eight years. After she felt comfortable, I spoke about the assassination on the road. Zhao Ji's face darkened and she asked who had touched her son. I smiled and said, "None of the embroiderers you gave me is left." Next, it's time to startle the salamander.
It feels like AI writing, too strong