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... the Immortal Institute’s storeroom, hands on his legs, and holding a reddish copper item in deep concentration.

Mao Zimiao nearby was biting on a brush, stealing glances at Wang Qi.

Next to them, Su Junyu never once raised his eyes from his novel. His hand lifted and flicked, leaving a red bruise on Mao Zimiao’s forehead.

“Focus on your problem. Don’t look at him.”

Mao Zimiao blushed, getting defensive. “I wasn’t peeking, nya!”

Su Junyu raised an eyebrow a ...

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