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... ords, Wen Ran’s expression abruptly changed.
Mo Xiuchen suddenly tore off the white cloth from his body, got off the surgery car, and pulled her into his arms. Holding her tightly, his chin resting on her slender shoulder, he spoke in a low, helpless voice, “Ranran, could it be, would you prefer it if I actually died?”
The body in his arms trembled at his words. Then he felt a pair of thin arms around his waist, and her sobbing voice echoed in his ears: “No, I wouldn’t.”
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