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... m.
Bu Chan smoothened the wrinkles on the wooden bed’s bedding over and over again, her mind elsewhere, always glancing out the window, where the main gate of the chicken farm was visible.
Yet, the more she smoothed the bedding, the messier it became.
When she turned back and saw that the wooden bed was even messier, she couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh.
Then, she conscientiously smoothed out the bedding on the wooden bed, bit by bit, again.
These th ...
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