There was a small circle of sloppy little ladies and little Langjun sitting in the room, the oldest was no more than eight or nine years old, and the youngest was only two or three years old. The older lady hugged the crying little lady tightly, and even covered her mouth to prevent them from sobbing and crying. Everyone looked at the middle place, their pupils widened and their eyes full of panic, but no one dared to speak freely.

On the cold muddy floor in the middle, there was a little Langjun lying on his stomach, his scarred back

"After being widowed, she became the general's white moonlight" one hundred and seventy-four is in the hand, please wait a moment,

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