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... meone outside to control the direction.
At first it was Wang Xiaosong, but Zheng Ruqian was not the kind of black-hearted person who exploited workers. He would always go out and take turns.
When the wind of early spring blew on his face, piercingly cold, Zheng Ruqian thought of his sister, thought of the Hairpin courtyard, thought of the warm quilt, thought of the braised pork elbow made by his aunt.
But who made their business rely too much on temperature? The colder th ...
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