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... devil. ------ An old proverb of Beamon.
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Liu Zhenhan stood at the bank’s toll booth, squinting at the other side. The river breeze was strong, blowing against his bare chest, his golden hair and chest hair dancing together. Guoguo perched on his shoulder, chewing on some snacks nonchalantly.
The toll booth, in essence, was just a thatched hut. Ning Yu and Avril sat inside, a night pearl resting in front of them, anch ...
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