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Little Connection"Guo Moruo," the man said simply.Little Connection by PTDaHood
"Wang Yao." The nation reached out, one hand stretched to the Western ways.
Guo Moruo stared, though not impolitely, before outstretching his own arm -- his palm met the nation's and they shook.
Silence quickly encompassed the setting while they shook their hands, slowly; it was only ruffled by the slow parting of the two palms after, dropping back to their respective sides with a muffled clap. They stood evenly, looking at each other and not breaking the contact. There was no tension; it was too lazy to stir, and tired. Yao's company was familiar to it, and it wanted only to stay away as much as Yao wanted to parry it -- how could he, though? So this was a relief.
This meeting was coincidence.
Yao spoke first. As he did, he was suddenly unconscious of the buzzing battle of the land of China once again locked in civil war. Conversation. Family. Yes...those could fend off the sinking feeling and rising phoenix that fought to asexually reproduce China. P
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