Madam Dihao is not good

fall out...

Mu Xicheng smiled, walked a few steps, took whatever he could reach, and smashed it; walked a few steps, took things again, and smashed them!

Everything here was arranged by him for Chanel himself.

He bought everything here with his heart... But, as long as it has nothing to do with Su Shijie, she won't notice it, right?

What's the use of him being so nice to her? [

He gave her all the precious things in the world, and she thought they were rubbish.

Tired.

It turns out that love is so tiring.

It should have been earlier, listen to Mu Lianli's words, be a cold-blooded and heartless person in this life, love no one, and there will be no pain.

Outside the window, the rain has been falling, the weather is cold, the branches have lost their leaves, and the dark sky is divided bare.

In that apartment, the crackling sound kept ringing continuously.

Tired from falling, sit down and rest for a while, continue to fall...

I want to throw everything away, throw it away, and never see you again.

until it was dark.

That voice gradually stopped...

In the bathroom, cold water kept flowing, filling a tank full of cold water, and more water was still overflowing.

There were beer bottles lying all over the floor, and there were a few floating in the bathtub.

Mu Xicheng was lying in the icy cold.

His face and lips were pale from the cold, but the corners of his mouth curled up mockingly, taking mouthful after mouthful of bitterness...

In my mind, like a slide show, I think of many, many.

Every scene he used to get along with Chanel: first meeting, first confession, first holding hands, first kiss, first date...

"city."

A murmured voice rang in his ears, Mu Xicheng squinted his eyes slightly, as if seeing a woman.

The woman smiled at him, standing in a sunlit field of flowers, with a violin in her hand. [

"What does the mayor want to do?"

"Musician." The little boy held her hand and raised his fair and delicate face.

"Okay, if the mayor becomes a musician, he will be the first to compose music for mother, okay?"

In the golden broken light, the woman's eyes were clear and beautiful, exuding a gentle and close temperament.

But then, the screen flickered.

Mu Xicheng saw a gurgling blood red, like a coquettish blooming rose.

He was eight years old that year, and when he passed the door of the study, he heard a violent quarrel.

Curiosity, he stopped at the door of the study, gently