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... ing on an extremely sullen posture; over the lunch break, he received all sorts of filthy text messages like “Darling, I’m coming over your nude photos” and so on, sent one after another, even with a recording of the sounds of his gasping; whenever he went home in the evening, he could always find the guy sitting on his own little stool on his doorstep, listening to music.
“……Mr. Luo, what the hell do you want?”
“You’re finally back, Mr. He!”
“…..please directly answer my ...
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