Mr. Giang, I wonder if your secretary is here?
The smell of nicotine pervades the office, where everyone is basically what Fabio considers trustworthy. His melancholy was like a cigarette floating in his hand, endless.
Honey, it's snowing.
On the way back to the village, Qin Xian couldn't help but laugh when thinking of Song Runan.
She repeated to herself, "Ah, it's called the Jiang Ling Charity Foundation."
Her hand movements were not hasty, her eyes stared at Nash, "Mr. Nash, is Sibo going to buy tootwo?"
Walking into Chinatown, familiar dialects that I could understand and ones that I did not understood rang out on the street. The whole street has a strong Chinese flavor.
Jiang Xiaoxin picked up the shopping bag and strode out of the store.
The sound of friction between the cloth and the air was sharp and sharp, like a signal.
Our reporter has not yet received a response from Mr. Zhao Zhihui, CEO of Dongzhu. We will continue to monitor and report.
The girl wearing pointy high heels nodded affirmatively: "Yes, I also heard about an acquaintance of Dong Truc."