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... in, a deep, serene pond.
Wind blows, the pond stirs, ripples like wrinkles on old skin appear, and with an inadvertent glance, you might see a strange face emerging upon the water surface...
The fishing rod is stuck in the damp soil, Song Yan stretches his body, resting his head on his hands against the old tree, his gaze quietly cast afar, a faint self-mocking smile at the corner of his mouth.
He has already understood that he has been swept into a cosmic disaster.
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