Suddenly, the pistol was on Yang Yalan's head. The cold metal smelled of gunpowder, which stimulated her respiratory tract.

Yang Yalan's legs were slightly soft and unsupported. He fell down the stairs and was pulled to the root of his thighs in his skirt. The picture was very hot.

gun!

The word only comes to mind.

She never thought that the man behind Mu Chudi was a major general.

Take guns with you.

At this point, she looked down at the cold gun powerlessly like a slaughtered sheep.

Heart, fluttering straight, as if to jump out of the heart.

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things get so noisy that the media come out to...