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She vaguely remembered an autumn from many years ago, in a small villa in Mingzhu City. Jiangg Yao was practicing the piano alone in her bedroom.
Outside, the leaves on the western hills had turned yellow. It was afternoon.
A gust of wind swept by, and countless leaves broke from their branches, drifting lazily through the air like flakes of fire.
She played the piano mechanically, without any emotion, her gaze dull, like a lifeless puppet.
Her sister had ...
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