Leng Zhan looked at the pain on Mo Xinran's face and frowned slightly. His eyes fell on him. He said quietly, "Your Highness is so kind to her woman?"

His words drift lightly, but invisibly there is a heavy pressure.

Mo felt that her wrist was going to be pinched by cold. A thin cold sweat overflowed from her painful forehead, but she hardly said a word except the first one.

"The Real Width of Two Mini Tubes..." With a cold sniffle, he tugged at his moist wrist and tried to turn around.

"Sorry, I'm third at home." Cold Zhan's words were not cold or hot. "On the cold anecdote,...