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... s rhythm.
Rain has a way of stirring memories. It recalls life’s unending downpour, from childhood to youth, and from youth into maturity.
“Brother, he’s still as kind as ever…”
Xu Moli held an oil-paper umbrella, quietly waiting for her brother’s return. The rain fell heavily, forming white streaks that wove a curtain over the world. Her pure eyes reflected the silent scene, broken only by a familiar silhouette approaching.
To her, Xu Xi was not just her brother ...
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