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Inside the Xiao Xiang Inn, Zhao Changhe, who had just been outside brimming with swagger, sat down and only had complaints left: "Does this damned book have a grudge against me? The eighty-eight it gave before, although hiding a hint of ’goodbye’, I could interpret it as ’getting rich is pretty good,’ right? Now what is this, a women’s friend? It’s too much bullying!"
Yue Hongling sat beside him with an expressionless face, applying medicine to the wound at his chest center. Seein ...
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