"This..." he said hesitantly, thought for a moment, shook his head and said, "I don't know about this either. The children who were sent away never came back, and their whereabouts are unknown."
As he spoke, he turned to look at the white porcelain doll, the Holy Son of their village.
The white porcelain doll slowly turned its head, its bright red eyes unblinking, staring at Mian Dian Liu Huali, the doll that was as white as his own.
There was almost no emotion or fluctuation in those red eyes, and no information could be seen at all. Being stared at like this for no reason, even a burly man like Mian Dian Liu felt a little scared inexplicably. When he got emotional, he raised his hand and protected the doll in his arms more tightly.
But the white porcelain doll was still staring at the Mian Dian doll in his arms. If he stared at it for a little longer, Mian Dian Liu's expression would change.
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