Whoever Touches the Sore Spot, Dies
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Yin Shixiong almost vomited blood from Huo Shaoheng's scathing response. I'm very old? Very old? Very old?! We're the same age, Chief! Yin Shixiong only dared to mutter this internally. Shrinking his head back, he sat in the driver's seat. He was so bored that he nearly pressed on the car's horn for fun.
Huo Shaoheng also didn't say he was getting in the car as he leaned against the front bumper alone and smoked quietly. The dark yellow glow of the night's street lamps cast a shadow on the ground. His handsome back and extremely attractive long legs somehow revealed a deep loneliness on this late October evening in the Imperial Capital.