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... atmosphere was as oppressive as water.
The myna bird was particularly quiet tonight, crouching in its nest, not daring to curse.
The basket filled with vegetables from last night was still sitting by the door, motionless.
Today’s kitchen was spotless, without a trace of any aroma.
Zhao Huai lay on the bed with a cold expression.
He had never felt so desolate before, a feeling that was akin to a fucking heartbreak.
How could people turn their faces ...
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