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Chapter 22: Only Him
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... was on the couch when the doorbell rang, my bandaged hand resting on my lap, a fresh bag of cheezies open beside me. The stitches pulled slightly when I moved, a dull reminder that I’d been careless.
Not that it mattered.
The wound would heal. Everything healed eventually.
Zhou Chenghai answered the door and I heard the low murmur of voices in the entryway, then footsteps approaching. Two sets—Chenghai’s familiar stride and someone else’s, measured and deliberate.
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