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... rred together in a haze of quiet reflection. Ethan had retreated into himself, the weight of the past pressing harder than ever. There was no more running, no more questions he could ask, no more twists and turns that could give him answers. What remained was an overwhelming stillness, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to permeate every aspect of his existence. It wasn't the kind of emptiness that came with despair or hopelessness—it was the kind that lingered after all the truths had been reveale ...

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As for Class F, the worst class… They have Japanese desks and seat paddings. Their blackboard is dirty and there is no chalk even! Someone complains that the legs of his desk are broken, so the teacher asks, “Didn’t we distribute some glue to stick wood together? Glue it back yourself later.” Another one complains that wind is blowing in from the broken window. The teacher says, “I got it. I will apply for plastic bags and invisible glue to fix it later.” There are spider webs everywhere, not a patch of the wall is clean. A unique moldy smell spreads across the entire room; it must be from the old tatamis used to tile the floor. This is the status of class F.

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Wen Jin: Not a minute longer!

Dewitt: Then let me kiss you.

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