Undercurrents in Beijing surface
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the wind in Beijing seemed to seep through the gaps in the glass curtain walls, carrying a sharp dampness. In the kitchen of Crescent Moon Cottage, the kettle made a sound, and white steam brushed against the warm shadow of the chandelier.
Hu Li leaned against the central island counter, her fingertips smearing the edge of the milk foam into a small flower, as if finding a light outlet for her emotions.
Mu Tianlang buttoned up his shirt cuffs with one hand and supported her waist with the other. She tilted her head back and smiled slyly, "General Manager, you should eat breakfast on time today too."
"I have rules," the man said in a low, cold voice, but he pushed a soft-boiled egg in front of her. "But you have to eat first."
"A commanding tone." She raised an eyebrow, bit down, and the bite mark fell on the golden edge, like stealing a small piece of order from his world.
He lowered his head and kissed the tiny bit of milk foam on the corner of her lips, his tone even softer: "Yes, ma'am."
Her eyes crinkled into a smile: "Mr. Wolf will say 'Yes, sir'?"
"Only for you." His hand tightened along her lower back, pulling her closer; the thin fabric couldn't block his body heat. Her heart burned under his gaze, and she suddenly tightened her grip on his tie: "Tonight...are you coming back?"
"Yes." He answered quickly, like a rivet set in stone. "I have two meetings this afternoon. I'll take you somewhere later."
"Where are you going?"
"Look at a little light." He didn't explain, but simply lowered his head and placed a light kiss on her forehead, as if pressing a stabilizing button for the day.
——
At 9:30, on the 26th floor of the Mu Group headquarters, the curtains in the conference room were half-drawn, and only a third of the light was on. Xiao Zhou projected the message onto the screen, pointing to the timeline: "Starting last night, the accounts stirring up trouble changed their rhetoric for the second time, shifting from 'vixen' to 'climbing the social ladder by paying respects to the mother-in-law,' suggesting that new resources are being added later."
Mu Tianlang tapped his knuckles on the table, his rhythm extremely slow: "What about the cash flow?"
"Two PR firms, newly established shells. The contact person for one of them is—" Xiao Zhou paused, carefully choosing his words, "Ms. Hu's mother, Su Qin, is connected through an 'Aunt Xu.' Also, at 3 PM this afternoon, the Xu family will release a preview announcing that 'the two mothers will soon meet privately.'"
The air suddenly dropped two degrees. The cold line in Mu Tianlang's eyes deepened: "Hu Li doesn't know." It wasn't a question, but a judgment.
"They seem unaware."
The man's gaze deepened, like a wolf in the night spotting a distant glimmer of light—both wary and precise. "Two paths," he said. "First, control the external media hype, cutting off any pre-meeting build-up to prevent her from being thrust into the spotlight. Second, investigate the 'compensation' between the Xu family and the media for the leak."
Xiao Zhou nodded and took notes. He then heard the man add, "Third, expand the security perimeter of Crescent Moon Cottage by one more layer."
He knew that was her home.
——
At two o'clock in the afternoon, Hu Li stood in front of her studio for a long time. The center of the canvas was a blank, moonlit white, like a sky waiting to be filled. She pulled out the draft from last night—a brief statement, its tone restrained. She didn't publish it; she simply folded it and placed it beside the easel.
A black-tailed magpie perched on the railing outside the window, tilting its head to listen to the rain. Her fingertips, holding the pen, felt a little cold, so she changed her grip, letting her palm rest more against the pen barrel. The paint spread across the canvas, and as she made her first stroke, she suddenly remembered the smell of cooking oil in the kitchen of her childhood and her mother's shouts—like a rag being torn apart, the rough sound cutting through her eardrums.
She paused, taking a deep breath. The breath rose and fell in her chest, and finally the pain subsided. She told herself: painting needs warmth, but warmth isn't fire; it can't burn you up.
Her phone vibrated. She glanced at it; it was a colleague from the gallery: "We can cancel the small sharing session tonight, or change it to online."
She thought for two seconds, then shook her head and smiled, "Don't cancel, let's go to 'Lin Gu Study' instead, it's quieter there."
"Okay. By the way, some people outside said you're going to visit your mother-in-law tomorrow..." The other person hesitated, "Are you alright?"
"I don't have that scheduled," she replied calmly. "Thank you for your concern."
She hung up. She turned the phone face down, letting the world have some quiet time.
——
At the same time, in a secluded room of a teahouse in the eastern part of Beijing, the wooden door was closed, and a small stick of sandalwood incense was burning. Su Qin lifted her pearl-gray silk handkerchief, deliberately revealing a gentle smile: "Sister Xu, we women understand women best. A mother-in-law's gaze towards her son is extraordinary. As long as I am courteous, the children will be obedient."
Sister Xu smiled calmly: "Madam Mu's health has been a bit off lately, but there's a tea party at the charity the day after tomorrow. If we happen to run into each other there, we can exchange a few pleasantries, and then have an acquaintance act as a go-between—"
"I understand, I'll prepare." Su Qin's eyes narrowed, her speech quickening slightly. "They say my daughter is a vixen, that she uses men to climb the social ladder. I can't let her be looked down upon like that. As long as I get the connections in the Mu family first, and let them know she knows the rules..."
Sister Xu gently picked up the thread: "We also need the cooperation of the media to present a consistent story, saying that 'the woman was dignified and polite and met her in-laws at a charity event,' which would naturally clear her of any wrongdoing."
Su Qin gripped her handbag tightly: "Money is not a problem."
She didn't see a young girl passing by outside the automatic door casting a curious glance at her—she was a new reporter from an entertainment media outlet, with extremely sharp ears.
——
At six o'clock in the evening, the wind was low and the clouds looked like they were about to fall. Mu Tianlang appeared at the door of Crescent Moon Cottage right on time. Hu Li opened the door for him and saw the paper bag in his hand: "What's this?"
"Pre-Rain Longjing tea," he placed the tea leaves on the counter, "I'll have a pot before going to 'Linggu Study' tonight."
She took his arm: "It's like a casual chat."
"that is."
The water boiled. As the tea simmered, a refreshing herbal aroma filled the air. She held the teacup, blew on it, and looked up: "Today the media is saying again that I'm going to visit my mother-in-law tomorrow."
He hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on her face, as if meticulously capturing every detail of her features: "You don't have this schedule."
"I know." She paused, tilting her head like a fox, "but I want to know, what do you think?"
Men are rarely asked about their emotions, especially when she stares at them like that. He paused for two seconds, then confessed, "I don't like outsiders dictating our lives."
She laughed, her eyes sparkling as if washed clean by rain: "I don't like it either."
He raised his hand, his fingertips resting on her cheek: "Once this wave of noise subsides, I will arrange for you to meet my mother slowly and formally, in a place you prefer."
She nodded, "Okay." Suddenly, she leaned closer and nuzzled against his chest, "Then tonight, take me to the light you mentioned."
——
Lin Gu's study is located deep in a hutong, with its courtyard gate half-closed, and the fragrance of osmanthus wafting from the walls. The sharing session had few seats to begin with, and it was even quieter at this moment. She talked about her paintings, about "moon white" and "cracks," about the weight of paint when it knotted in her heart; he watched her quietly from the back row in the shadows, occasionally glancing down to reply to a message.
The applause was soft but warm as she finished speaking. As she stepped off the stage, he draped his coat over her shoulders: "It's getting windy."
She looked up and smiled, "I'm not cold with you here."
Just as the two reached the alley entrance, a male reporter suddenly peeked out from behind the wall: "Professor Hu! Are you scheduled to meet with Mrs. Mu tomorrow? Would you be able to respond?"
Before he could finish speaking, the shop owner stepped forward to stop him, smiling but firm: "This shop does not accept any interviews, please leave." The security guards who were supposed to arrive also arrived, a beep of their walkie-talkies, and footsteps created a buffer zone in the space.
Mu Tianlang didn't look at the reporter, but instead turned to shield her in his arms, pressing down firmly with his palm: "Let's go."
The wind whistled through the eaves, ruffling her hair. She turned to look at him, suddenly remembering those noisy nights from many years ago: her mother's shouts, the sound of shattering glass, and how she had curled up in the shadows—and now, this man's hand was pulling her away from the wind.
She whispered, "Thank you."
"No need." He looked down at her. "We'll choose our own path."
——
As night deepened, the rain intensified. She turned her easel towards the window and laid out new paper. She picked up the old watercolor box, her fingertips lingering on the deep red tube, before finally squeezing it into the saucer. The paint slowly spread in the water, like a wound that had been touched.
She painted a figure with its chest cut open, revealing not a heart, but a group of foxes biting each other; below, she added a very light touch of moon white, as if leaving a crack to let in light. She named the painting "Crack".
He walked over and stood behind her without saying a word. She could hear his breath falling like a steady line behind her ear.
"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked.
"After I finish drawing, it won't hurt so much." She put down her pen and leaned against him.
He pulled her closer, placing his palm on the back of her hand: "I'm here."
She smiled, mischievous yet obedient: "Then I'll reward you." She tiptoed and gently kissed him, a clean kiss, like pressing a seal with her lips.
He lowered his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was even lower: "Again."
She laughed, like a triumphant little fox: "There has to be a reason."
"The reason is—" he whispered in her ear, his cold tone tinged with passion, "I think."
The second kiss was longer and slower than the first, as if gently pulling her out of an old dream.
——
That same evening, in that teahouse in Dongcheng, a phone call was quietly connected amidst the fragrant aroma. Sister Xu's voice was filled with laughter: "Tomorrow morning at 9:30, there's a tea party at the charity event. Mrs. Mu will be there. When you go, don't be too conspicuous."
Su Qin's palms were sweating as she gripped her bag tightly. "I know. The media—"
"We've already made arrangements; we'll only release one article describing the 'chance encounter and harmonious atmosphere.' Stay calm, don't rush things, and don't scare your daughter."
"I'm helping her," Su Qin murmured, as if trying to convince someone, "I'm helping her."
After hanging up, she dialed a second number, speaking even softer: "I'll bring a small gift tomorrow, a small photocopy of a drawing she made herself, saying the child is sensible and hardworking... um, thank you for your help."
——
In the early hours of the morning, a new ripple suddenly appeared in the public sphere: a secondary account first posted—"I heard a female painter is going to meet her future mother-in-law." The tone was deliberately "harmonious," without any profanity, yet it felt like a slow, sloppy push. Xiao Zhou saw it immediately and responded briefly: "The second wave is here."
Mu Tianlang sent out the word "Received," his gaze deep. He didn't immediately wake the person beside him. She slept in his arms, her breathing even. He raised his hand, gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and placed a very light kiss on that small patch of pale skin.
"Sleep well, fox," he thought to himself. "I'll handle this."
——
As dawn broke, the last drop of rain fell outside the window. When Hu Li woke up, he was already dressed in a shirt, making tea in the kitchen. She walked over barefoot, rested her chin on his shoulder, and gently nuzzled him: "Will you be busy for a long time today too?"
"It won't be long." He turned to look at her, the coldness in his eyes softened slightly in the morning light. "Be back before ten o'clock."
She nodded, then suddenly remembered something and picked up her phone from the table: "I wrote something last night, and I want to talk to my mom about it tomorrow during the day."
"I'll stay with you." He offered no advice, only a promise to stand by her side.
The light in her eyes brightened, like a stone settling steadily in a gust of wind. "Then I'll draw for a while and wait for you to come back."
He hummed in agreement and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear: "Have something to eat after you finish drawing."
She mimicked his tone and replied simply, "Yes, sir."
——
At nine o'clock sharp, in the side hall on the third floor of the "Ting An Foundation" charity tea party venue, the curtains were drawn half a foot, separating the voices and flashing lights outside. Su Qin sat in a corner, holding a gift bag, her heart pounding as if it would burst out of her chest. She saw the elegant lady enter, guided by staff—Madam Mu, dressed in a plain long dress, her expression calm. Sister Xu, wearing a volunteer badge, stepped forward to exchange pleasantries, her gaze beckoning to Su Qin. Su Qin's knuckles pressed crescent-shaped marks into the leather handle, her gaze sweeping over the lady's white collar and understated earrings—that unassuming composure was the yardstick Su Qin had been compared to her entire life, and also the name that had stolen her husband's heart. Hatred, like fine needles, gently pricked her palm, yet she meticulously sewed it into the lines of her smile.
She took a deep breath, stood up, and smiled as if it were a fixed mask: "Hello, Mrs. Mu, I am Hu Li's mother."
Her palms were slightly sweaty, yet she maintained a perfectly measured smile. A volunteer approached gently, "Would you two like some tea first?"
Sister Xu chimed in for the two of them, smiling broadly, "Just use the aged white tea provided by the conference organizers, something a little weak."
The porcelain lid tapped gently, releasing a faint scent of sandalwood from the air conditioner. Mrs. Mu's gaze fell on Su Qin's hand; her fingers were well-groomed, yet unconsciously clenched. She spoke, her voice low and her words carefully chosen: "I've heard that there have been some unkind comments about children online lately."
"Yes," Su Qin nodded immediately, her speech slowing down carefully, but her words betrayed her anxiety. "The child is straightforward and doesn't know how to speak politely. I was thinking that as elders, we should try to build a good relationship with her first, so she won't go astray." But a cold chill ran through her heart—you're perfect in every way, you're always right.
Madam Mu did not respond immediately. She picked up the covered bowl, ran her fingertip along the blue and white pattern in a small circle, and then said gently, "I think the relationship still needs to be managed by the children themselves; only then can it stand firm."
Su Qin's smile froze for a second: "Of course, of course. But the child is still young. If you don't mind, I'd like to come over and learn some manners first. It's always easier for women to talk to each other than for young people." The corners of her lips remained curved, but her fingertips tightened around the edge of the gift bag.
Sister Xu went along with it, offering a way out for both sides: "Madam, you can just sit in the side hall before the meeting for a while; if it's convenient after the meeting, we can have an acquaintance act as a bridge to have a formal meeting, without disturbing those outside. Everyone is doing this for the child's sake."
Madam Mu raised her eyes, her expression still calm: "The charity is a place for action, don't put the young people in a difficult position." She put down the covered bowl with a soft sound, like a fine needle dropping. "I respect their choice. Whether to meet or not, let them decide for themselves."
Su Qin's heart sank, but she couldn't let her smile fade. She hurriedly tried to salvage the situation: "Of course, of course. Don't worry, I just... I just want her to gain a foothold in the Mu family." Halfway through her sentence, she couldn't hide her urgency, "This child lacked a father's love since childhood, and she has a wild nature. If she has displeased you, I'll apologize on her behalf." The thorn in her heart deepened even further—
Madam Mu looked at her, her eyes seemingly veiled by a thin mist that concealed her deep emotions, but her tone remained restrained: "The hardest thing about doing what's best for the children is not making decisions for them."
Su Qin was caught off guard by those words, her knuckles trembling slightly at the edge of the gift bag. She tried to steer the conversation back on track, taking a small painting from her bag: "This is a copy of 'Moon White' that she made in her early years."
Mrs. Mu did not reach out, but nodded to the volunteer next to her: "Put it away for me." Then she looked back at Hu Suqin, "I will look at your daughter's painting slowly when the light is good."
Seeing that both sides were very restrained, Sister Xu quickly smiled and asked the volunteers to refill her tea, then steered the conversation toward the event: "Madam, the next part of the event is about to begin; Ms. Su, I will contact you about the specific details later. Please don't rush, and don't let the children be misunderstood."
Madam Mu smiled faintly: "A child's injury has nothing to do with the caliber of the statement, but with the heart."
Su Qin's smile faltered almost imperceptibly, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes tightened slightly before quickly smoothing out, and she raised her jawline to swallow her emotions; her knuckles tightened on the rim of the cup, turned pale for a moment, and then relaxed.
With just a few words, Sister Xu managed to calm things down.
——
At the same time, on the west side of Beijing, in the temporary war room of Mu's Public Relations and Legal Department.
The whiteboard was covered with timelines and arrows, and two large screens displayed a rotating chart of public opinion on one side and a graph of capital flows on the other. Xiao Zhou gestured for everyone to sit down: "Two things: First, the second wave of the 'harmonious narrative' has begun and will erupt at noon today; second, the Xu family's online acquisition points have initially been set at two PR shell companies, 'Xingfan Interactive Entertainment' and 'Huacheng Media'."
Legal Director: "The letter is ready. We will first request the platform to take action, then back up the evidence, and pursue both infringement and unfair competition cases."
A young PR professional raised their hand: "Does Mr. Mu mean to maintain the 'no public appearance, no explanation' logic? Or are you going to release neutral material to give a tangible basis for a neutral voice?"
The door was pushed open. The man's steps were steady, his eyes calm, like the eye of a storm. "The second one," Mu Tianlang said, "is the material, not the person. 'Painting' and 'exhibition' are her language; let them see her in her language. Note three points: First, all materials must not touch upon the family; second, avoid value judgments; third, replace all keywords with neutral terms."
The PR representative replied quickly: "Yes."
The man paused, then added, "For the security of Crescent Moon Cottage, we'll add an extra layer of patrols on the outer ring; we'll check the blind spots along her route two hours in advance."
Xiao Zhou replied, "It's already in progress."
Mu Tianlang looked around and said, "This isn't about 'blocking,' it's about 'guiding.' Let the wind have its way, so it doesn't hit anyone."
After the meeting, he stood by the window and sent his mother a message—just four words: I will arrange it. It was a promise, not an order.
——
Afternoon at Crescent Moon Cottage.
Hu Li moved the canvas to a spot near the window, where the light draped over her shoulders like a gentle veil. She added another message to her mother's notes: "I'm willing to see you, and I'm willing to see them, but only at times and in front of cameras arranged by others." She saved the message but didn't send it.
The doorbell rang. It was the property manager and two engineers. The manager stood at the door and said in a low voice, "Ms. Hu, patrols have been increased. There are a few reporters loitering outside the main gate; we've asked them to wait on the street outside. If you need to go out in the next couple of days, please let us know in advance so we can arrange parking."
"Thank you. You've worked hard."
After adjusting the monitor angle, the engineer turned around and saw her drawing—the drawing depicted a figure with a slashed chest, from which a group of small foxes were searching for an exit. The engineer didn't understand drawing, but for some reason, he felt a lump in his throat.
——
Side entrance of the conference hotel.
As Sister Xu saw Mrs. Mu into her car, she gave a briefing in a low voice: "Her mother was in a hurry, but she didn't act rudely. I've kept things under control with the media, only giving the story of a 'chance encounter,' and not letting the cameras get too close."
Mrs. Mu nodded: "Don't pressure the child." After thinking for a moment, she added: "Please also tell the media to stay away from the child's workplace and private life."
The car door closed, and sunlight filtered through the trees, painting the alleyway entrance a golden line. Sister Xu stood by the roadside, and soon received another call—it was Su Qin inquiring. She lowered her voice and said, "Don't worry, I'll contact you again."
In the photo, a seemingly gentle woman and a middle-aged man are seen entering and exiting a hotel through a side entrance. The caption reads: "Is the future mother-in-law making arrangements in advance?" The tone isn't vulgar, but it carries an implication. The comments below are steered towards the conclusion that "the parents are involved, and the woman is benefiting."
Xiao Zhou immediately posted the screenshot in the chat group: "Coming."
Mu Tianlang simply replied, "Tch." Soon after, several influential figures in the art world began sharing photos and clips from the study, with the theme "How paintings speak for people." The captions were clean and did not name names, yet they drew attention elsewhere.
He put down his phone and turned to look at the person curled up on the sofa. She had her legs tucked in, hugging a soft cushion, her eyelashes like a row of quiet fans. He gently unfolded a thin blanket and covered her, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of her knees. She smiled in her sleep, rolling around like a little fox.
A low chuckle escaped his throat as he withdrew his hand, leaning back against her, his shoulder blade pressed against hers. The rain pattered softly, their breathing slow, and his eyelids were gradually lowered by Ye Yi.
——
At 6:30 a.m., the wind parted a corner of the clouds.
He woke up first. In the kitchen, the kettle was just boiling, so he turned the heat down and warmed the milk in a small pot, adding a pinch of black tea to create a breakfast milk tea. She came barefoot to the door, reaching out to steady herself on the doorframe, her eyes not fully open, her voice soft with the sound of early morning: "When did you get up?"
"Just now." He handed her the cup. "Take a sip first, it'll warm your stomach."
She held the cup to the rim, the steam obscuring her eyelashes. Suddenly remembering a passage in her memo, she looked up and said, "After you're done, let's go talk to my mom together, okay?"
He looked at her, his eyes like the morning light, the coldness softened into resilience: "Okay. You go first, I'll stay beside you."
She smiled and winked: "Not in the back?"
He raised his hand and tapped her forehead: "Beside you."
——
At the same time, at the entrance of Crescent Moon Pavilion.
The property manager instructed over the walkie-talkie: "Media at Gate 2, please move to the outside street and keep the sidewalk clear. Be mindful of your language." The security guard replied, "Understood."
At the elevator entrance, Hu Li wore a beige baseball cap, a plain white T-shirt, and light-colored jeans, looking neat and tidy. She stepped into the elevator, and her phone vibrated. It was him: "I'm nearby."
She replied: I'm going downstairs.
The door opened, and the man stood in the light. She instinctively reached out and tugged at his sleeve: "You look...like you're going to close a great deal."
He looked down at her: "Go protect someone."
She smiled, her fox-like eyes crinkling: "The deal will definitely go through."
——
The corridor outside the side hall was narrow, and there was a faint dampness after the rain. They walked side by side, neither speaking first. Reaching the doorway, he stopped, turning to face her sideways: "One last confirmation—this time, do you want to talk, or to debate?"
She looked up, her breathing steady: "Let's talk."
"Okay." He raised his hand and tucked the ends of her hair behind her ear. "I'll be right here."
The door was pushed open, and Chenxiang rushed in again. She saw two figures at the table—one upright, the other stiff. The moment Su Qin turned around, a brief flicker of panic crossed her eyes, quickly replaced by a smile: "Why are you here?"
"Come and have some tea." Hu Li approached, his tone calm but polite.
Madam Mu looked at her, her gaze like the autumn sun, cool yet not sharp: "Sit down."
The four of them sat at the same table for the first time. None of them reached out to touch the pot of weak tea first.
Hu Li spoke first: "Mom, if you want to see someone, you should tell me."
Su Qin's throat tightened, and her smile became somewhat stiff: "I was afraid you'd overthink it."
“I do think about it,” Hu Li said, “but I hope that these thoughts don’t happen in someone else’s lens.”
Madam Mu didn't interrupt, only watching the two of them. She tapped her fingers lightly on her knee, as if adding an invisible rhythm to the conversation.
Su Qin bit her lip and finally blurted out what was on her mind: "I'm just afraid you'll lose."
Hu Li paused for a moment: "Winning or losing isn't about who stands at your door the longest or whether you go home with someone."
Mu Tianlang had remained silent until now, when he finally looked up and said in a very calm voice, "I will stay with her."
Madam Mu glanced at her son, her eyes becoming calmer, as if she had confirmed something. She lowered her voice: "Since we're all sitting at this table, let's set a principle first: let the children make their own decisions about their own affairs."
Su Qin finally put down the gift bag in her hand, her shoulders relaxed slightly, then immediately tightened again: "Okay."
The wind rustled through the leaves of the laurel tree outside. Someone pressed a button on a walkie-talkie outside, and a distant "received" reply came through, a subtle sense of security that softened the atmosphere of the small room.
The conversation didn't end immediately, nor did it immediately turn into an argument. Many words were woven into the aroma of tea, slowly, very slowly unfolding.
——
Late that night
The third wave of trending topics took a different angle, with two marketing accounts simultaneously releasing a blurry telephoto photo—in which a seemingly gentle woman and a middle-aged man enter and exit a hotel through a side entrance, captioned: "Suspected future mother-in-law making arrangements in advance?" The tone wasn't vulgar, but it carried an implication. The comments below were steered towards "parents making arrangements, the woman benefits."
Xiao Zhou immediately posted the screenshot in the chat group: "Coming."
Mu Tianlang simply replied, "Tch." Soon after, several influential figures in the art world began sharing photos and clips from the study, with the theme "How paintings speak for people." The captions were clean and did not name names, yet they drew attention elsewhere.
He put down his phone and turned to look at the person curled up on the sofa. She had her legs tucked in, hugging a soft cushion, her eyelashes like a row of quiet fans. He gently unfolded a thin blanket and covered her, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of her knees. She smiled in her sleep, rolling around like a little fox.
A low chuckle escaped his throat as he withdrew his hand, leaning back against her, his shoulder blade pressed against hers. The rain pattered softly, their breathing slow, and his eyelids were gradually lowered by Ye Yi.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
