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... n her memory, there was no one who could be called a good-hearted neighbor. When she first got married and moved there, she had made some glutinous rice cakes and delivered two pieces to them. They had also returned the favor, but to be honest, that little gesture wasn’t enough to form a closeness where someone would specifically write her a letter.
With a mix of curiosity and apprehension, Jiang Zhenzhu eventually opened the letter. It was written on red-lined paper, but instead of word ...
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