The chicken head storm only lasted for a while, and everyone would eat with peace of mind.
Evelyn is no longer a la carte. The dish is made by herself. Why can’t she eat it? Moreover, the taste of this wild pheasant is indeed incense.
After the meal, as usual, Evelyn would not be allowed to wash the dishes.
Evelyn’s back to the house was resting, the quilt on the bed had been laid for her, and a few pieces of her clothes were neatly stacked on the bed.
Thinking of the young boy, Evelyn smiled and held his clothes and sat in his hair.
Login to comment
Be the first one to comment...