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... after the shooting that she realized that the back of her hand was stained with cyan paint, so she paused for a while and rubbed it on her sleeve again.
Then it retreats to the door, shrinking its presence, leaving the stage for a would-be murderer, a would-be victim, and a ghost in front of it.
An Cai couldn't help wondering why there were cats here.
She got up dreamily, turned around, and stared at the bridge.
The bridge swishes a meter away.
After being sil ...
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