Tang Bingbing smiled in the crowd, with an expression difficult to decipher, quietly watching Yang Fan for a moment before gradually drifting away with the yangge procession.
This neither male nor female thing seemed to be a leader in this yangge troupe, with a group of middle-aged women twisting to his rhythm.
The yangge procession gradually moved away, heading towards the village filled with smoke and the sound of firecrackers.
Tang Bingbing didn't suddenly rush over, drawing out her over one-meter-long broadsword from her waist to chop at his head as Yang Fan had imagined.
"This damned thing, so mysterious, who knows what they're up to." Yang Fan cursed under his breath and quickly dialed Mr. Fan's number to ask for help.
The last time, they almost lost everything and everyone almost fell into this scoundrel's hands.
This time, Yang Fan dared not be careless.
