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... his hurry, his hand accidentally slipped and half of the rice papers escaped his hold.

The bitter cold wind suddenly blew open the window, sending the rice papers flying all over the place. Lin Qingyu looked up at them slowly flying down. As though in a trance, he seemed to see a familiar figure; he could vaguely hear someone talking to him.

It was the figure of Lu Wancheng and it was the voice of Gu Fuzhou. When the wind stopped, both of them disappeared, leaving in his world only ...

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