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... izzle spread like the fog in an ink wash painting, soft as fluff, pitter-pattering, shrouding the Jiangnan nightscape in a hazy and splendid veil.
In the lamplight, the bluestone path seemed to be coated with a layer of crystal. In such a season, there always seemed to be a couple or two, in high spirits, sharing an oil-paper umbrella and strolling through the rain.
This was the first time, holding an umbrella for her.
Basking in the dim street light, you slightly turned ...
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