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... eftly moving his fingers. The moonlight when it was ugly was thin, sliding over the side of his bridge of his nose, making his hanging eyes look lonely.

The piano rests on the table, covered with silk, and has not been touched for several days.

When Yao Wenyu woke up, he didn't say anything. He looked sideways at Qiao Tianya.

Qiao Tianya is like a lonely month stagnating in the empty valley after a shower, clear and distant. The wanton wind became an old dream last night, ...

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