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... e could not get rid of this buoyancy, or not only buoyancy, she could barely turn left and right, as if the air had fallen into a state of disorder, and every ball of air was playing its own game.
“Aneemie!” Charlotte Lingling shouted. “Come and hold me!”
“Mom, Mom!”
Homies of the Wind screamed above Charlotte Lingling’s head, and even the sound was getting farther and farther away. As a wind, even if it was a wind with a soul, it was still a wind, and this kind of thing, in ...
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