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... d box, Ji Tingyang’s long-dusted memories were once again stirred up.
It was during his parents’ funeral when he was a child.
Ji Tingyang quietly watched the burial scene, holding the hand of the tearfully sobbing Ji Zeqiu.
The sharp and piercing cries of his sister in swaddling clothes, mingled with various weeping sounds around him, echoed in his ears. His palms trembled slightly, and his eyes were already bloodshot, but he forced himself to suppress the pain in his hea ...
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