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... ir, wafted out by the hairdryer. Wen Ran sat unmoving, her gaze steady on the handsome face reflected in the mirror.
She couldn’t help but conjecture about what had happened. What could have compelled Mo Xiuchen to want to return home?
If she had to guess, he must have already booked their plane tickets. He was probably waiting for her hair to dry so he could tell her the news. As this thought crossed her mind, her hands, which had been folded together, tightened their grip.
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