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... is hand.
The elder chuckled, clinking his cup against Xu Zimo’s once again. “Tell me, young man, how’s the wine?”
“Excellent,” Xu Zimo nodded.
“Our village is called Forgetful Village because of this very wine,” the elder said, smiling strangely. “It’s called Forgetful Wine.”
“Oh?” Xu Zimo raised a brow. “Does it make one lose their memory after drinking it?”
“How do you feel right now?” the elder asked, standing up slowly.
“Nothing out of the ordi ...
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