Fu Yan Huo Ming Zhen

After finishing his day's work, Fu Hanlin walked out of the spirit hall and to a willow tree in the courtyard. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket and lit one.,The hand holding the phone had evenly proportioned and slender bones, it clenched suddenly. The streetlight illuminated the windshield, leaving half of his face in shadow, devoid of color.,It's just that heart, or is the thief's heart still not dead。