It was Mo Shichen who was undoubtedly coming. He was wearing a long gray coat, low-key and elegant. I don’t know if it was her illusion. He always felt that the aura exuding from him was a little different from usual.
As soon as he saw him, Wen Yi stopped and just stood there.
Mo Shichen quickly walked to her.
Her eyes were facing each other, her black and white eyes were still cold and cold, and several strands of black hair were disturbed by the wind.
Mo Shichen spoke, his voice dumb, “I’ll pick you up.”
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