When Xue Zong finally escaped from the police station and returned to Ji’s house, Ji Heng was watering the flowers.
During the recent period, he suddenly began to cultivate himself and cultivate his temperament. He also raised flowers and fish, and occasionally played chess with himself, sitting for a day.
“I’m back.” Ji Heng said without looking back.
“Yeah.” Xue Zong took off his jacket and handed it over to the servant.
He touched the glasses with one hand, and walked calmly to the side of Ji Heng, watching him water the flowers. After watching for a while, he stretched out his hand to hold Ji Heng’s wrist and pulled it aside with slight force, “Change a pot, and then water it. The roots are rotten.”
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