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... e window curtains that were not closed fluttered in the wind.
Lin Qingqian walked to the bed and looked down. The car parked downstairs displayed no intention of driving away.
The man’s deep voice echoed in her ears. “Qianqian, I’m only three years older than you. I shower no less than twice a day, and—I regret it.”
Did he regret it?
Jiang Yanshen, what do you regret?
However, no matter what, you can regret it, but I won’t look back.
Her porcelain ...
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