"Ye Cheng, let me remind you that eight years ago in New York, Brooklyn, England." O'Flen was wearing a horrible grin. His five fingers, like hawk's claws, clung tightly to the white neck of Mei'er. Mei'er's face was indifferent, as if she was going to die at any moment.

"Overland, I hate you. It should have gone with me." At this time, Meizer's hands grasped O'Flen's wrist tightly and tried to break away, but it did not work at all.

At this moment, when I heard the conversation between the two people, Ye Cheng's thoughts suddenly returned to eight years ago. The dust-laden memory suddenly came like a tsunami, and...