The Consort of the R

A single, painted hand shot out from the ground, grabbing onto the ankle with a desperate force, as if grasping at a lifeline. A shattering sound echoed, followed by a frantic cry: "Save me... save me...",The calming tea worked well. Just a whiff of it and my mind felt at ease. I propped up my head with one hand and lazily held a teapot, pouring myself some tea, all in a languid manner.,There's a saying in Beijing to describe this street of pleasure: "Drunkenly Reclining Amidst Wind and Moon, Discussing Romantic Tales; A Half-Step into the Red House is Already Immoral."。