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... of it but didn’t get to the drawings at the back.

Seeing the drawings, he suddenly remembered the girl sitting at that platform, head bowed, serious-faced, doodling in her notebook, unknowing of what she was sketching, then bending down to kiss it.

So, she was kissing him.

Fu Ying’s face turned red, wishing she could just find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

It was too, too embarrassing.

Inside weren’t just his portraits, but also all sorts of pretent ...

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