The middle-aged man's voice was like a tape recorder, repeating incessantly, repeating incessantly!
Clutching her head, Zhao'er suddenly raised her head; the deep purple flames surged in her eyes as she clearly uttered one word, "Die!"
In that instant, somewhere on a highway between the Eastern Sea and Yuhang, a high-end RV was speeding along. Liu Bai sat on the soft, comfortable sofa, holding a glass of red wine, his face adorned with a faint smile.
He was already imagining, after returning to Yuhang, holding Zhao'er's tender little hand, wandering in the bright sunlight of March, and then in a gentle afternoon, embracing her slender waist, kissing her…
"Cluck!"
An odd noise suddenly interrupted Liu Bai's train of thought. Looking up, he turned to a middle-aged man sitting in front of him and asked with a laugh, "Master Lin, are you feeling unwell?"
"Cluck!"
The surname Lin middle-aged man had just started to speak when he made that strange noise again.