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... skull like a sharp knife, wandering in the depths of his already chaotic mind, stimulating his related memories.
Suddenly, he seemed to hear a soft, satin-like voice chanting lowly: "Red begonia, yellow begonia, how melodious the wind blows. The childhood and the distance are worrying about father and mother."
The singers faintly have the sound of Lin'an, a nursery rhyme in the waters of the south of the river, coaxing the children who will fall asleep.
Red begonia, yellow ...
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