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Leaving the square, the sky was already at noon.
After the onset of autumn, the sun in the sky wasn't as scorching as before, and the air was filled with warm breezes. These, however, gave a rather stifling sensation.
"What on earth is up with that Zhong Ping?" Chen Hao thought about the figure of Zhong Damin staggering away just now, feeling quite uncomfortable inside.
He did not have the concept of parents in his life, but there were some close friends who were much older than him.
Most of these friends were in their fifties or sixties. When they were young, they were restless just like him, they had been to war, acted as assassins, joined gangs, and been in prison.
However, the glory of youth turned particularly bleak when they got old.
Their bodies revealed all kinds of chronic illnesses, and they lived pitifully.