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... anshu’s hand was real. Shen Qianshu’s muzzle turned, and the silencer pistol hit Yang Xiaohua’s side. A bullet hole appeared on the ground.
"Yang Xiaohua, you better not mess with me."
The children's paintings sit on the window sill, slowly swaying their legs, and they don't care about their own appearance.
Ada, "Miss Shen, the young and the poor have instructions, what do you want to do, let me know, I will do it for you."
Killing and setting fire, never mind.
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