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... was taut, his fingertips holding the cigarette turned white, his entire person shrouded by dark clouds, the aura around him oppressive and gloomy.

She wasn’t going to come over, was she?

He exhaled a puff of pale smoke, his black eyes looking at the mountain range that undulated nearby. The night had completely fallen, and under the ink-colored sky, not a single star was to be seen, cold and vast.

Another hour passed.

It was almost eight o’clock.

Ming Yao ...

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