Brooke put his finger on Bu Yaolian’s forehead: “Nine thousand and nine Daichun, let her thin.”
In just a moment of effort, the person on the bed was thin. Brooke looked at Bu Yaolian’s body like a ball, and slammed like a suffocation, shrinking by half.
The quilt collapsed.
Brooke stared blankly at the beauty in front of him, Bing Mu Jade Noodle, an extremely perfect oval face, and his eyes were picturesque.
This face made her look silly.
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