After Su Xiaoxiao finished retching, she slammed her head on the table and fell asleep, leaving Wei Ting alone to hold his injured heart and doubt his life.
However, Wei Ting was not the only one who was depressed. In the distant mountains, in the biting wind and snow, Wuhu was shivering in a certain cold lapel.
"I say, the four of you, have you forgotten something?"
Luxury soft sleepers were no longer available, and the heated hard seats were gone. All that was left was the leaky old train.
The green train was noisy and bumpy.
"Hahaha! I, the number two assassin in the world, have returned!"
"Northern Yan b*stards! Come out and die!"
Not a single wretched thief was left, let the army kill them all, alright?
"Where?"
"Where are you? Come out and die!"
He was like a celestial monkey on steroids. One moment, he was swishing up the treetop, and the next moment, he was rushing down the hill.
