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... emed on his old father, his wife, and his son!
Thinking about his old mother’s death many years ago, Song Zhuohai knew that there was nothing Song Zhuolan couldn’t do.
“The brush is made of a dead baby’s hair. You know very well what you’re up to!”
As soon as Song Zhuohai spoke, he directly threw the brush at Ye Nambo’s face.
He truly didn’t hold back at all.
Ye Nambo held his mother and didn’t dodge. He frowned tight instead, looking a bit con ...
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