The Fragrance That Remains in Life
by Lin Naiyao
About This Novel
My father has no prose poems. His notebooks are full of traces of working day and night. His hands are all calluses. He is very ordinary. He can't give me anything, but he has given me nothing. There is no real empathy in the world, but my mother does. Your little pain will be magnified many times on her. Remember to leave a copy of the romance and pampering in this life to your parents
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