But the expressions on Zhu Yan's face changed immediately.

In front of the woman, her hands were stroking in the air with strange movements, and the blood she drew followed her fingers, and a faint golden light seemed to flash at her fingertips.

...

Isn't it special, is it magical?

At this moment Zhu Zhu felt that it was not the words that went crazy, but that he was crazy.

Otherwise, how can you see this incredible picture.

Fortunately, he is not a hairy kid. Even at this time, he is not scared or even thought.

He covered his heart, resisting the dizziness and tingling sensation that he always wanted to fall to the ground, and asked the song again, "Why?"

The voice was infuriated with grievances and sadness.

When Yange took heart, he did not poke too deeply.

Such a blood-sharpening instrument is a needle tube with a long needle.

The needle is very thin. Although the blood is taken from the heart, there is no need to cut open the chest and it will not kill people.

When she heard that, she looked at Zhu Ye's half-dead face, smirked, and said, "I always asked why it was me, then I look the same as you now."

It's all the same unwillingness, the same grievances and surprises, and forbearance.

She looked at the mule and said softly, "Next time, tell me why."

Zhu Yan: "Why?"

His dark eyes stared at Yange, persevering, and still asking why.

Yan Ge tilted his head and looked at him: "I hate you."

I hate you.

The four words hurt him more than the needle that poked him.

He opened his mouth, perhaps because of thirst, and his throat felt uncomfortable as it cracked. As a result, his voice was astringent: "Is it because of Sinan?"

Love between men and women is so trivial that it is not so far.

Yange laughed ironically: "No."

She looked at him as if looking at her former self. She said, "It's not because of others, it's because of yourself, and you will know it later."

She didn't wait for him to speak, adding: "Actually, it should be me."

She didn't understand anything.

He just felt that her voice was particularly indifferent, unlike her soft voice on weekdays.

Is this his Fifi?

Surely not, his Fifi loves him so much.

He couldn't help but murmured: "You said you like me, is it true?"

Yange raised his chin and replied, "In an unequal relationship, all likes are for survival."

"You, you are not Fifi. Fifi, she likes me ..."

Yange interrupted him: "I'm not Fifi. That woman, she is not as lucky as me. She was rejected by her loved ones and loved ones, and she died long ago."

Zhu Yan stared at Yange with a confused look, and didn't seem to understand the meaning of Yange.

Yange said, "You can think of me as a monster."

As Yange said, Zhu Ye felt that Yange had just acted like a monster.

He chuckled, and asked jokingly, self-deprecatingly: "Then, do you like me or Fifi?"

Although he was asking for songs, he was more like asking himself.

About this moment, he couldn't figure it out.

"You don't like anyone." Yan Ge's voice calmed down his confusion: "You only like yourself. You didn't like Zhao Feifei now. Now you don't like me either. You think you like me because I am You see a useful existence. "

Zhu Yan looked at Yange with a look of dissatisfaction. The next moment, he suddenly flung forward and hugged Yange.