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... Wen Yu plucked the osmanthus flower from her hair and realized that there were subtle markings on the petals.
Although the flower had fallen from the tree, it still bore the markings of the tree’s growth.
Wen Yu looked between the flower and the paper-elemental source-type item in her hand. A dream took root in Wen Yu’s mind.
“If only I could become a white paper engraved with all the memories of you and Sky City,” murmured Wen Yu.
Wen Yu spoke und ...
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