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... red by lead clouds, and the night is thick, like ink, and it can't be deepened. When Yao Mozhen and Tingyue walked to the door of the firewood house, Liu Xing had been waiting there for a long time.
"Miss, the slaves made the money, and they left a sigh of relief." Liu Xingjian was Yao Mozhen, and he greeted him.
"You are waiting outside." Yao Mo's slightly jaw, immediately opened the door of the firewood and went in. Outside the door, Ting Yuefu looked suspiciously to Liu.
...
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