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... ough the gaps in the leaves, shone onto the river, creating a golden phosphorescence.
Emperor Tianhong was still kneeling by the river, his beard touching the ground, knees deep in the mud, his eyes closed, his black hair spilling out; he seemed to merge with the forest, his breath natural.
Thousands of years have passed since Xiao Lan left, and Emperor Tianhong has been kneeling there for over twenty-one thousand years.
Footsteps approached from behind, and a man dressed ...
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