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... owling. The night was cold, and the sky was so dark that it seemed as if it was squeezing out the last drop of concentrated ink. A chill assaulted people straight in the face, making them unable to breathe.
When she entered, Old Madam Fu grabbed her hand and refused to let go.
After talking for a while, the group finally sat around the dining table.
Because it was the Laba Festival[1], Huai Sheng had returned to the mountain to see his master and hadn’t return ...
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