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... his mother was not there to coax him to sleep at noon or at night, he must have Maomao.
The typical fetish of a child.
Lin Lan didn’t interfere much; it would be fine once he was older anyway.
But who would have thought that Han Qingsong didn’t know about it. Tonight, when he was washing his hands before dinner, he went back to the house and saw Maomaot. Thinking that it was merely a rag, he washed it and hung it on the windowsill outside.
Originally, he should be ...
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