Beloved little goldf

When Hé Qióng heard this, he could no longer bear it.,The sky was overcast, a canvas of gray and black, heavy with a sense of gloom. It seemed as if someone had splashed ink onto a sheet of paper, the ink seeping into the heavens and blurring the clouds.,This is a thirteen or fourteen-year-old, ragged and filthy, with a broken leather pouch tied around his waist.。