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... ’s voice was filled with endless hatred.
The black skirt of the young lady fluttered with silver lotus patterns, shimmering and rippling in the moonlight.
It was a mysterious and unpredictable beauty.
The young lady crouched down, with a handkerchief in her hand, gently wiping away the tears on Jobelle Callum’s face.
Her motions were so gentle, as if treating someone precious.
“Do you remember Ayana Philbert?”
Jobelle Callum’s eyelashes trembled sl ...
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