Under the blazing sun, Jiang Zong didn't have a good time waiting for Fu Zhi at the street entrance.
The chirping of cicadas was heard.
At first, the young master was still sitting on the chair arrogantly, playing with a fan that cost ten Yuan.
Ten minutes later, he casually pulled open his collar.
Twenty minutes later, he rolled up his pants with a flushed face.
Another ten minutes passed, and the young master even opened his elegant folding fan.
The folding fan with the words "who has never died since ancient times" on the front was opened by the man, who fanned the wind with force.
She took out her phone and asked the mercenaries who were lying in ambush,"is Fu Zhi here?"
The summer in the capital was different from the gentleness of the breeze in a city. It was hot and suffocating under the light of the noon.
