Mr Bo's Spoiling His Sweet Wife

Tang poetry walked alone in the narrow corridor, first walking, then galloping, and then galloping, until it rushed out of the terrible metal building shouting all kinds of electronic music, until the figure was again engulfed by the night.

She seems to be trying her best to run in the dark end of nobody. All the satire rises at this moment. She laughs, flustered and rampant, and a man comes after her and grabs her.

There is no turning back in Tang poetry.

But the man's voice was dead on her back, as sharp as a steel needle. At this time, it was all over her body.

She turned back, no longer bear, a slap in the face of thin night.

It's really Funny man.

Tang Shi chuckled, then pulled out his cold hand and gently poked thin night's chest.

This movement, however, is like a huge hammer in his chest until the blood cross flow, the heart reads seconds.

Word by word, the woman interrupted all the retention and explanation that Bo Ye wanted to say. She seemed to understand what the man was doing with him, but what was the use of it? This kind of gentleness can not offset the fact that she had been living for him again and again!

Tang poetry seems to use language as a weapon to dismember all defense of thin night.

She said.

"The old feud between you and me has not been cleared up. You need not mention the old love I have for you."

Since then, Bo Ye, I have loved you once, when a joke, listen to it.

At that moment, a thousand arrows pierce the heart, but the night is painful.

Tang Shi reached for a taxi in the next moment. She was clearly poured with wine. She was clearly in a mess in front of the public. However, when she got up again, she was still holding her chin. She was proud and precious, just like five years ago, all the people in her eyes just turned into a wisp of light mockery.

The car left very fast, as if someone was urging him. Watching Tang poetry leave him, Bo Ye subconsciously stretched out his palm. He once held her wrist, but now, the palm is full of air.

Nothing.

It's not like this Once Tang poetry would not show that kind of eyes to him, the indifference and ridicule in his eyes when he left, as if there was nothing left between them.

Aware of this idea, Bo Ye suddenly laughed. Did they ever have anything?

Tang poetry loved him so much that he once could carry everything for him. How many times did such strong love, such love to the end of his life, bear so many injuries and destruction that it turned into today's indifferent resistance with pain and hatred?

It seems that the feeling of losing something is particularly fierce. At this moment, with a kind of swift and violent attitude, the man is forced to look pale and look at the empty road subconsciously.

Night wind blowing, with whose sigh, toward the darker corner of this city that never sleeps.

Sitting in a taxi, Tang Shi kept passing the street lamps, and the lights hit her face one after another. It was hard to see clearly.

The woman clenched her fingers at this moment, and though she trembled, her eyes were so bright that it was like a dying man's last glimpse of the world, and her eyes were like a flame that ignited her whole world.

Thin night, you just rely on me to still love you, from now on, if you can't love, you will hate, if you can't hate, you will die!

In this world, who thought what good end!