From the moment she entered this home, she had been ravaged by the pervert Zhan Feiyue. This young master, who always smiled in front of others and behaved politely, had a special "preference" for her.
"Zhan Feiyue, if I don't give in, you really think I'm critically ill." Zhan Zhitong held up his messy bird's nest head and rolled up his sleeves. He held a kitchen knife in his right hand and a durian with gloves in his left hand. He stared at the man in front of him who was packing clothes. I can't chop you to death, and I can't stab you to death... Hum