Quick Transmigration System: Male God, Come Here

There was no trace of snow, and he threw the wine bottle, and his eyes suddenly appeared.

Her cliffs, sunset, and she.

He is no longer definitely, she doesn't love him at the end?

Or she really needs a sacrifice.

Only for him so much.

Snow is not marked, never forget, when she pushed him into the fire, the eyes were calm to terrible indifference.

If you love him, can you really pretend so perfect?

There is no trace of snow, I feel that he has to force himself later. He dragged the sword, drunk back to the room lying flat sleep.

I haven't really slept a good idea for a long time.

He quietly looked at the top of the bed and slowly closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his chest pain is unbearable, immediately getting up, a blood has spit out.

Emotional suffering?

Snow is not trace, touching your chest, this familiar pain is coming again.

Pain is getting more intense, but in the end he can't bear the curling in bed.

Too painful, this pain even exceeds his body limit.

The snowless expression is cold, pale, sweat, has been squatting.

Suddenly he took the bed, hit the table, and the table turned.

Suddenly a stacked paper rolled out from the table.

The snow is not trace, he is dead and staring at the stacked paper.

Scattered a paper, a familiar handwriting.

These papers are actually sticking to the table, and no one has discovered.

He bent, just see the first piece of paper, the above is a digital mark.

One.

He breathed a meal and turned the paper.

The paper on the paper is very nice, and the elegant writes - Master, I like to you is a day per day.

The pain of the snowless chest is calm.

These words are what she stayed?

There is no trace of snow, suddenly close your eyes, exploring all the paper overlapping.

Then I opened my eyes, didn't browse content, quickly put all the paper from one sequence.

A total of forty nine.

He decided to see a day, this is the only thing she left to him.

Snow is no trace looks a day.

"Master, your fingers are really good, I like your fingers, can't be sent to me."

"Master, your eyes are also good, when can I always look at me, I am awkward by anything you have seen."

"I don't call you the master today, call you no trace, snowless bastard, you don't like me, I can like you."

......

This is her diary.

The newness of paper is also different.

It seems to be written for a long time.

It's all made up, some of the words are very scribbled.

Look at it every day, each is a love to him.

The heart of snow is not painful, and he has not found him.

He didn't even know why he suddenly had a pain, clearly the sequelae of this martial arts.

There is no trace of snow, life is extremely poor.

Before he did not encounter Bai Weiwei, he would be happy, when he was in the man, and the evil time used white magnolia to be full of people.

Everything is a fun game for him.

He likes these games, even enjoy.

And after she died, he didn't have anything.

Live is not as good than death.

His life is killing, then quiet waiting for tomorrow, continue to see what she wrote.

The back of the paper is not like a diary, but gives him a letter.

"Master, I will not be here, you have to take care of yourself."

This sentence makes him nose.

He can't take care of yourself, even don't want to take care of yourself.

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