With a thin waist, a delicate and crisp voice pointed at the man lying on the sofa, moaning innocently: "Lin Zhisen, I solemnly tell you that we are done playing. I will cross my Dubu Bridge. You don't have to tell me which river you love. We will never interact with each other until death."
"You cross your Dubu Bridge. Which river is mine? I don't have to tell you?" His tone was still so breezy, but Zhang Yu's body was already starting to feel numb.
"Who said that? This is a slander against me."
"Aren't we going to be in contact with each other forever?"
"I'm talking about growing old together. The language is not well organized."
Zhang Yu's waist suddenly tightened, and the man in front of her was sucking her lips mercilessly. He kept turning on her lips, as if he was punishing her for being dissatisfied with her.