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Zhao Yingjun’s home, bathroom, in front of the washbasin mirror.
Tick… Tick…
Lin Yuxi covered her nose, looking at the muddy bloodstains on the ground.
She blinked her eyes.
Looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar self in the mirror.
Familiar, with a familiar appearance.
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Unfamiliar, with unfamiliar memories.
Now she possessed the memories of both Yan Qiaoqiao and Lin ...
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