[ this is my son. He's five and a half years old this year. He's not that impressive, but he's less than two years older than Xiao Liuliu. ]
There was also a photo of fan fan leaning on his shoulder at the back.
The photo was photoshopped, and there were even words on it.
[ my name is fan fan. Everyone says that I look exactly like my father. ]
It was a complete imitation of fan fan's first-person tone.
The two people in the photo looked exactly the same, and it was suffocating.
After fan Yu confirmed that there were no mistakes, he clicked send.
This message was not the end.
He stood in front of the French windows in the living room and slowly flipped through the phone numbers of the other people.
Yu Yuehan.
Tang yuansi.
Qi Yan.
Mo Yongheng.
No one was spared.
Not to mention these few men, even Nian Xiaomu, shangxin, tan bengbeng, and Zheng Yan had received similar messages.