The sky is stained with ink, and the moon and stars are thin.
In the midsummer night, cicadas whispered.
Wang Weixi stared at the brave and persistent woman in front of him, and it took a long time before he said: “Thanks to the love, Weixi is not worth it.”
“Whether it’s worth it or not, it’s not you.” Tong and Xin adjusted their emotions, “I met, and I want to chase. This is my right, and I will not deprive you of the right to refuse. Maybe I will chase. I’m tired and feel it’s not worth it. I will let it go myself. But shrinking without trying it is not my Tong and Xin’s style.”
Speaking of this, Wang Weixi could only nod his head, and he didn’t say anything.
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