They sat on the sofa and the diary was on the coffee table.
Samuel He held the pen, staring at the horizontal lines one by one, but he was unable to write down even a single dot.
The heirloom diary... a treasure left by John Qiao's mother that belongs to a warm home. Now he can write on it.
Thinking of this, Samuel He's hand holding the pen trembled slightly.
John Qiao waited for him patiently.
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