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Standing under the dilapidated low eaves, behind him was the setting sun, its twilight casting across his surroundings. Jiang Zhihao felt as if he had just woken from a dream.,Zhong Jiawei held a bag in her hand, from which wafted a faint fragrance.,In Zhong Jiawei's heart, there wasn't a shred of willingness to believe her husband. She had lost too much, to the point of despair.。

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