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"Jiang Taoshi? Who’s that? Do I know them?" Yang Qingfang looked puzzled at these words.
"It was when I was in middle school. One summer, a classmate came to our home to pick fruit, and at noon, you cooked chicken for us. The chicken wasn’t completely dead, and it splattered blood all over one of the classmates..."
"You’re talking about Taozi, right?"
Yang Qingfang suddenly realized, and even Han Changfa, listening on the side, remembered.
"You’re talking ...
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