Fu Yan Huo Ming Zhen

He wasn't a heavy smoker, barely smoking a few cigarettes in a month. But after days of constant spinning, his nerves were frayed. The nicotine rolled through his lungs, bringing a brief sense of ease, but with it came the crushing weight of grief over losing a loved one.,Even if she did nothing, just standing there or speaking a word, or even just being in the same place as him, would make him feel much more at ease.,The hand holding the phone had evenly proportioned and slender bones, it clenched suddenly. The streetlight illuminated the windshield, leaving half of his face in shadow, devoid of color.。