"Jiaozi."
Soft footsteps filled his ears, and he watched all day wearing Ye Fengsheng's expression. On the one hand, he grasped that old song—it was not human! This was the Devil!
"Brother, brother, I was wrong, man, we shouldn't have stolen your stuff, just spare me this time!"
Yang Ping bent down, frantically pleading, looking disheveled, otherwise, he would loosen up due to the fear in front of him, afraid he had already started kowtowing.
Ye Fengsheng remained silent. In the old stage, this person was not a robber, you could even say he had no baseline. The victim of the theft was rapidly changing. Only migrant workers can fly, so we must give him some profound lesson.
