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... wringer, which resulted in her waking up at noon once again.
She furrowed her eyebrows slightly and lethargically turned over.
Her waist, her legs, were both sore and achy.
She silently cursed Fu Shiyan eight hundred and eighty-eight times.
Her phone on the nightstand began to vibrate, and with an outstretched slender arm, she picked it up to answer.
Su Yue’s voice came through, "Baby Yan, have you designed the initial draft for the winter collection?"
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