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... y of living—making music, planting flowers, fishing, and sometimes even writing poems and painting when he was in the mood.

One day, he was fishing by the pond in his backyard. Blackie was resting by his feet, watching him peacefully.

“That’s strange. I always put in lots of krill every month. Why can’t I get any fish?” Li Nianfan frowned as he held onto his fishing rod. He looked at Blackie with suspicion. “Have you eaten them all? I remember putting in a golden carp, but I don’ ...

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