C165

"Is it yours?" Wu Yan didn't know what kind of mood he should have to ask.

The feeling of the xun, vague memories, Su Qingjiu put the xun to the mouth, blowing up a few sounds that day.

After getting familiar with it, a song was quickly played. The melody from his childhood recovered very quickly.

Hearing the familiar tone, a crack appeared on Wu Yan's indifferent expression