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... ildhood, a rainy day, a pavilion by the lake.
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Both cheeks of the little girl were swollen high, with clear palm prints on her tender face.
She was still wearing an ill-fitting single-layer garment, with the rolled-up sleeves revealing faint bruises of green and purple.
A surge of pity welled up in Sheng Tingyuan’s heart, “Who hit you?”
“My mom.”
“Why did she hit you?”
“Miss pushed Little Pear Blosso ...
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