On one corner of the yellowed paper, a drop of long-dried oil grease caught the eye.
Jing Luo's smile froze. He brought the pulp novel close to his nose and sniffed—this scent was the grease of his osmanthus pastries!
There were countless identical pulp novels in existence; why on earth would the one he had lost after being abducted turn up in Shen Yanzhi's room?
Chapter 253