Sen Ran took out a cigarette, lowered his head and lit it, took a hard puff, and then slowly spit it out.

Xia Xiyan stared at the white-haired man indifferently, and there was no expression on his face.

When Bai Ye saw the man's white hair, his eyes straightened. He remembered that Xia Xiyan once said that when he was chatting, he would always dream of a white-haired man lying on her knees covered in blood.

This person......

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