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... Lin Wanrong glanced down at his hand and found himself holding a piece of bright red, soft silk, adorned with round lace. Folded, it was no larger than his palm. A faint fragrance emanated from it. It was as soft as water, as fiery as a flame—reminiscent of the blushing cheeks of the Turkic girl, Yujia. He could even sense a faint warmth from it.
Seeing their commander holding such a vibrant dudou, the soldiers of the Great Hua couldn't help but suppress their laughter. Their expressions ...
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