“Moscow never believed in tears!”
“My father said coldly that he was a businessman with a common name, Tan Wenqi. The son turned his head: "Dream ingress with effort and faith.”
“
Tan Wenqi sat on the sofa.
The son looked out of the mountains and the wind poured into the window.
The son has a word did not say the export: the day again high, no still wide, life again cheap, no bone hard, people again poor, no bitter.
As the light went by, his son’s first walk was ten years, and few people knew his real name: the figure.
More often than not, he is called Artu.
The graph erstwhile spoke without much malice.
As night fell fast, Artu stood on the roof and looked at the distant red and dark sun, and today’s stars seem to be getting bigger, a force that shortens the distance between the earth and the sun, is that the power of illusion?
Want to enter the right and wrong, Artu’s mind sounded a poem, simple words, lonely feelings, just like he went forward ten years.
The fog of Snake City is still in sight, and the symbol of the Ksuru myth, which combines death and the supernatural, still echoes the misty laughter of the mountains.
In short, a wave of life and death.
Artu thought.
At the age of 20, I thought I’d know your answer to trying to murder me, because I’m going to ask you, but I didn’t get your answer. During this period, Baichuan’s number has not yet appeared on the mobile phone screen.
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