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... layers of cream yellow and butter yellow. Lun Chuan grasped the black iron lid and gave it a hard twist—
On his tensed arm, the scars from burns sent a slight, ant-bite sting, but what rushed to his face was the unique, fresh sweetness of the honey.
Lun Chuan paused for a moment, then leaned in to take another sniff.
It was an indescribable sweet sensation.
Like plucking a flower from a green grassy field under the light rain of Xiaoyun, and gently sucking on it, ...
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