PREVIEW
... taurant with a man wearing lipstick and a rose hairpin?
Ge Zhengxiang felt he was the most qualified to answer this question.
“Brother, are you engaging in some kind of performance art?”
Ge Zhengxiang, feeling nearly buried in the bowl of porridge in front of him amid the strange glances occasionally cast by his comrades, peered over the edge of the bowl at Wu Shaohan.
In stark contrast to Ge Zhengxiang’s discomfort, Wu Shaohan appeared much more composed.
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