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... ng Zhong: “I would actually like to see that collection of poetry, do you have it?”
Filippov shook his head like a rattle-drum.
Wang Zhong patted his shoulder and strode into the factory building.
Many plants had grown inside the ruined building, and upon everyone’s entrance, some small animal scurried away in fright.
The local Bishop apologized: “We’ll clear this place up soon—”
“There’s no need to preserve this,” Wang Zhong said, “Battlegrounds like this ...
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