Brother Hua stared into Yan Huan’s eyes and smiled. He knew that Yan Huan did not lie. She did not know how to sing. A person’s mouth could tell many lies, but in a person’s eyes, was there truth.., or was it fake.
He could tell at a glance.
“What About Your AIDS?”
Brother Hua asked indifferently. Of course, he did not dislike anything. Otherwise, he would not have taken the cigarette in her hand.
He poured out another cigarette from the cigarette case and put it in his mouth. Then, he lit it up and gently exhaled a puff of smoke. Then, everything was blurred in front of his eyes, including the woman in front of him, as well as the woman’s eyes.
He narrowed his eyes. The Green Stubble had a hint of dejection. He didn’t look like a fugitive who had done all kinds of heinous things. Instead, he looked like a wandering poet, a painter who had no talent, he was also an artist who was looking for inspiration.
