Collection showroom.

A strange atmosphere emerged quietly.

The mistress gently snuggled into Wu Xiaode's arms, stroking his earlobes with her hands.

"Erian, we can't do this anymore."

She uttered an indistinct whisper, so nasally that it sounded like just a hum.

"Why?" Wu Xiaode hugged her waist tightly.

"The Patriarch's talk is almost over." The mistress writhed in his arms.

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