Hand over that woman

Late at night, it was as if the whole world had fallen into a deep sleep.

Somewhere deep in the forest, Wang Jingyang was lying down beside a stream, surrounded by the sound of the flowing water.

Wang Jingyang casually picked a flower beside him and carefully examined it for a long time.

"This is your hometown ... You were born in your hometown and buried in your hometown. You have your own life and freedom ... The purpose of your existence is to bloom ... I'm so envious."

Wang Jingyang stared at the Little Flower in his hand, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

In the forest at night, the sound of water flowing could be heard continuously. The breeze in the forest was intoxicating, but it was not peaceful.

"Are you tired? you've been following me for a day."

Wang Jingyang took out a bottle of milk from his pocket. After drinking it, he put the empty bottle back into his pocket.