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... paused, lowering his water glass and instinctively looked through the dining room’s floor-to-ceiling window toward the main entrance.
Just as the nanny had said, a white sedan was parked outside the carved iron gate.
Even though he couldn’t see the license plate number, he recognized it at a glance—it was Song Youman’s car.
About half a minute later, Han Zhijin put down the water glass and walked out of the dining room. He crossed the living room, approached the elevator ...
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