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... could be faintly heard inside.

The sun is gradually turning to the west, and the afterglow of the setting sun stretches Mo Dai's shadow extremely long. The evening wind gusts, blowing the corners of Mo Dai's skirt and hair from time to time, and the old locust tree at the door shakes the dark brown of newly sprouted buds. Branches, there is a little desolation in the silence.

It was the first time for Mo Dai to understand the desolate feeling of being rejected by others, having a h ...

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