C65

"Poems, poems, songs." After repeating this phrase, Soong Ci's mood became worse.

With a wave of his sleeve, he swept everything that was placed on the table to the ground.

He looked at the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor and kicked the table over.

Seeing the mess in front of him, Soong Ci gradually quieted down.

"Lead your own ten plates," Soong Ci ordered coldly, "Scram