The weather in summer is the most changeable, and the sky is clear outside the house, but there is a thunder from nowhere, like a violent and heavy drumstick beating on her heart.
Anna Yan pressed her beating heart, making the illusion that she was still restrained, and watched Qi Zhengrong approach step by step with a blank expression on her face.
He seemed to be in a good mood. His stubby knuckles were slowly stroking on the cold iron rod, and he said leisurely: “You two, who first?”
After saying that, he smashed Charles Liang’s chest with an iron rod. The latter turned pale with pain. He bit his lower lip and made no sound. The broken hair on his forehead was soaked in cold sweat suddenly.
“No way, no, it’s really boring to deal with you.” Qi Zhengrong sighed, his cloudy gaze shifted to Anna Yan, and his mouth was full of yellow teeth when he grinned.
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