The rustling autumn wind carried a strong scent of blood and corpses, and amidst the silence, the sound of collapsing decrepit buildings occasionally echoed.
Chen Xiaolan, protected flawlessly by Meng Zifei, poked her head out and looked at the back of Baili An on the stage with her bright eyes.
She unconsciously tugged at Meng Zifei's clothes, saying, "Master, Master..."
Do you feel that person resembles Si Chen?
Meng Zifei lowered his brow, and with a puzzled expression, glanced at him.
Just as Chen Xiaolan looked at the mask on her master's face, for some reason, the words on the tip of her tongue were forced back down.
"Nothing, Master, I just saw your clothes were disordered, let me tidy them up for you."
Meng Zifei lowered his eyes and smiled: "Why do you always make a big fuss over little things?"
