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... e had been electrocuted; our faces were pink like peaches.

He looked at me, and I looked at him. We looked at each other’s blushes and chuckled.

My father rubbed his brows helplessly and said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, “Alright, alright, young man.”

“You’re not angry with us anymore?” I asked carefully.

“How can I be angry? Even the moon has acknowledged your relationship.” My father said, “Young people are always impulsive, but young people’s feelings ...

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