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... grasping Liam’s jacket.

Cars flow like waterfalls, the chilly night wind brushes past her temples, she looks at the twinkling neon lights across the river, passes under one after another streetlights, and gradually calms down.

She suddenly thinks of something: “Wait, where did you guys get the motorcycle from?!”

Liam’s jacket billows in the wind, he teases intentionally: “I can’t hear clearly!”

Helplessly, Maureen straightens up slightly, grabs his shoulder, lean ...

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