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... It pattered against the windowsill, obscuring the view through the large floor-to-ceiling window, only faint shadows of the cars visible.
A man in a black sweater sat nearby, holding a thermos, staring absentmindedly at the world outside.
Han Xi came upstairs to find this scene.
Fang Zhou seemed disconnected from the world, like a lonely island, creating his own small universe.
His presence felt jarring, as if he didn’t belong. Simultaneously, he exuded a gloomy ...
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