There was no seven-year itch. Moning was already itchy in three months.
Is marriage stable? Is it bondage? Is it happiness? Is it the grave?
In the name of love, we will fight until death.
By the window on the thirteenth floor, Zhang Xiaoyan raised his left hand and took advantage of the afterglow of the setting sun to look at the scar on his wrist that was deep into the bone marrow, winding and lingering.
The man she loved deeply downstairs was driving into the distance in his car. Where he went, she didn't know.
However, Zhang Xiaoyan felt that Mo Ning seemed to have another woman.
Once upon a time
Moning said many things in Zhang Xiaoyan's ears.
"Little one, I'm so much older than you, you can be my daughter."
"Little one, I want to turn you into my woman."
"Little one, give me a daughter."
"Little guy, I'm sorry."
Once upon a time
In front of the Civil Affairs Bureau, two men and two women were in an awkward situation.
Moning was standing next to a woman, and she, Zhang Xiaoyan, was standing next to another man.