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This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

The hand that touched Gao Ming was devoid of the warmth one would expect from a living being, feeling more like an inanimate object. It was coarse, marked with the hard, rough patches of calluses and scabs, a testament to hard labor or perhaps a life of hardship. The fingers were grimy, coated in dirt that seemed ingrained into the skin, and the fingernails were in poor condition – bitten down to jagged, uneven ...

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