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... her mouth opened and closed, weakly calling out, "Lu Xinglan..."
That was nine years ago in the winter.
The wind that night was fierce, howling loudly.
The woman’s voice was panicky, fragmented by the wind, "Is she, is she dead?"
The headlights of the truck were shattered, and a girl lay on the ground, blood seeping from her dark hair.
A rough hand pressed against the girl’s carotid artery. "She’s still breathing."
The man’s voice was hoarse and co ...
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