Killing the King and Shafeng: Miss Seven

Beimingzhu's complexion was cloudy and cloudy, alternating red and white, while Mo Xingchen, Mu Yu, Bingyan King, and Little Bodhi in the silver cup were laughing and rolling on the grass. It can only be said that this woman is too powerful.

"Ahem, although what she said is a bit outrageous, it is undeniable that what she said is true. It is better for Miss Yuyue to take it easy, not only for yourself, but also for your parents. I hope you will not commit suicide again." Bei Ming Zhu sighed and looked at Yuyue who was already a little dumbfounded.

"Yue'er, senior is right, it's not worth it for a man." Madam Yu burst into tears again.

Yuyue's mouth was flattened and flattened, tears streaming down her face, and finally she began to sob softly.

"But I really can't forget Brother Bing."

Fan Tianluo shrugged and said, "Maybe you will marry Lord Binghuazhuo in three days, and you won't think about Lord Patriarch anymore."

"What!" Yu Yue's eyes widened immediately, and she looked at her mother.

Mrs. Yu could only tell the story of Bing Huazhuo who wanted to marry her in three days.

"Mother, I committed suicide just because I didn't want to marry Mr. Binghua Zhuo. You, how could you and dad still let him marry me?" Yu Yue's expression twisted immediately.

"Hey, that's because you don't want your parents anymore. Your parents are so sad that they can only marry you off." Fan Tianluo prodded her.

Yuyue gave Fan Tianluo a hard look, and said loudly: "I don't want to marry Lord Binghuazhuo, mother, I don't want to marry!"

"Hey, if you don't marry, you'd better live on. Otherwise, Master Binghuazhuo will marry your dead body back. Even if you die, you have to become his Binghuazhuo's woman." Fan Tianluo shrugged.

Beiming Zhu secretly gave Fan Tianluo a thumbs up, obviously this sentence is the killer.

"No, I don't want it, mother, go and tell dad that I don't want to marry Lord Binghuazhuo." Yuyue said eagerly.

"Let me go and talk, your father is talking about something with Haotian." Beimingzhu was afraid that if she heard Fantianluo's nonsense, she would want to die.

"Brother Bing is here too?" Yu Yue's eyes lit up immediately.

Fan Tianluo immediately said with contempt: "Look at you! You are like a pervert, reserved and reserved! You can see the patriarch, but it is the last time. After this meeting, you have to bury your feelings for him, otherwise we will just bury your feelings for him." It can knock you out and let you marry Bing Huazhuo, lest you destroy other people's happiness."

Yuyue stared at Fantianluo with a pretty face twitching, then looked at Beimingzhu, Beimingzhu nodded and said: "Even if you want to be a concubine, I will not agree, after all no woman is willing to share her husband. "After speaking, Beiming Zhu walked out, leaving Yuyue with an enchanting back.

Yuyue looked at Beimingzhu's beautiful and graceful figure, feeling very lost in her heart, and couldn't figure it out, why does Brother Bing like women with big breasts?He is obviously a gentle and delicate man, so he should be with a Xiaojiabiyu like her. She really can't accept it for a while?Don't you know Brother Bing at all?

"Okay, don't be sad, everyone has their own marriage, one day you will meet someone who really likes you, and you have to remember that finding a man who loves you is far more than finding a man you love Men are much happier." Fan Tianluo said in the tone of someone who came here, "Come on, dress up and say goodbye to the patriarch! You really don't interest men like this." Fan Tianluo looked at her contemptuously.

"Senior, can't you say something nice?" Yuyue was really shocked, and her little face was a little hideous.

"I have a nickname, Poison Tongue Woman, but I don't want to." Fan Tianluo shrugged, with aggrieved expression on her face.

"Hehe." Seeing her expression, Yuyue couldn't help laughing, feeling that she didn't feel so uncomfortable in her heart.

. . .Dear friends who like it, please give it 5 points, the average score has been pulled down, woo woo. . . .