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At a friend's party, Zhou Jiayin sat on the sofa and was upset, feeling that she was being loved.
What's damning is that the man sat down next to her.
Chen Siyuan, who was sitting next to her, also felt the same way.
Why is she always looking at me? Why hasn't she confessed her love to me yet?
Zhou Jiayin: (breathing gently)
Chen Siyuan: She likes me.
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