PREVIEW

... ial one.

Qin Feng holds a cigar. He slowly takes a sip, and enjoys the smog through a thin layer of smoke. The iron-gray trousers are under the bulge.

He can go upstairs now and open his legs, but he doesn't.

This kind of thing, pay attention to a feeling, is bad.

If it is only the body's **, it is not enough to make him impulsive.

He left this person with a mystery.

It seems now that the mystery is one by one.

Qin Feng leaned slightly, and the li ...

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