Lights are on at the entrance of the community, and the broad road is like daylight.
In the cold December wind, the girl raised her eyes and her peach blossom eyes shone brightly.
Her voice was soft and soft: “I’m here, thank you for sending me back.”
Miles lowered his head, trying to hide his wounds, but the roots of the red ears were exposed.
The lights here are so bright, he must be ugly now.
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