PREVIEW
... g the chopping board at a constant speed kept ringing.
Yu Niang is standing in front of the stove, ready to cook.
At a position of seven or eight meters behind her, Han Zhao was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his eyes closed naturally, and his hands were constantly punching and punching in the air, and there were bursts of piercing sounds.
After an unknown amount of time, the aroma of the food reached Han Zhao's nose.
His fists became pitch black, and after ...
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