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I had loosened the golden muffler that he always wore. I had moistened his temples, and had given him some water to drink. And now I did not dare ask him any more questions. He looked at me very gravely, and put his arms around my neck. I felt his heart beating like the heart of a dying bird, shot with someone’s rifle 去书内
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  • 用户824102 用户824102

    The narrator was dying to the heaven, whose action collaborated the scenario.

    2025-05-05 喜欢(0) 回复(0)

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