"Zheng Dalu, have you ever liked me?" The man lying on the ground could not speak smoothly, but he still raised his head and asked for an answer. "Wei Ceng" looked down at the person with a sarcastic look on his face, close to his ear, "You harmed my family and you still expect me to like you, Jiang Wanling, I wish you died." After saying that, he pointed the dark barrel of the gun at the person in front of him and slowly clasped his index finger.