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... , 4:42 PM
The late afternoon light filtered through old glass panes, casting fractured golden patterns across the floor. The gallery was empty, save for a few lingering guests and a courier delivering espresso in an ivory cup.
Ye Yuyan stood at her usual corner — near the wide painting with no signature. Her own.
She wasn’t looking at it.
She was watching the wall behind it, as if she could see through the paint, through the concrete, into the deeper syst ...
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