Why should I just wash my hands after doing this? Sure enough, I shouldn't say some unlucky words.
Tang Qiye was lying on the cold and wet stone floor, his right hand tightly covering the wound on his left shoulder. Blood seeped out from between his fingers, dyeing the turbid muddy water under him black and red.
A small halo of light dimly lit up at the end of the alley, as if someone was walking towards this side with a lantern.
My eyelids are too heavy and I can't see anything clearly. Is it a ghost messenger coming to pick me up?
Then a group of black shadows screamed and jumped over, splashing mud on his face.
?
What?
Let's have a little brainless sweet article. Please treat me to Tang Ming!
Concept: Innocent love brother and pretty sister