PREVIEW

... one-chilling.


When Fu Chen saw the message, the tip of his brush paused, and a blot of ink dripped onto the golden-gilded Xuan paper. He put down his brush and casually pulled the Xuan paper off the table. His movements weren’t quiet.


“Third Uncle?” Huai Sheng, holding a pencil, looked at him suspiciously. “Who made you angry?” His expression got cold all of the sudden. It’s scary.


“Nothing.” Fu Chen crushed the Xuan paper bit by bit in his palm.


T ...

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