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... windowsill, not saying a word. The white windowsill had a unique hollowed-out space. Outside the window, white clouds swirled around, and his white clothes fluttered in the wind. It was as if he was about to ascend into the heavens.
His black hair was twined, fluttering in the wind.
King? This name was gradually becoming familiar. It was so familiar that when he was sleeping soundly on certain nights, he would always hear someone call out the name ’19’. He was actually ...
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