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... t.”
Xia Siyu walked to the bathroom, and Bo Yan followed her, both of them squeezed the toothpaste onto their brushes in the same rhythm, with matching movements.
Bo Yan watched in the mirror, the person with half-closed eyes, a picture of languid ease.
This person was just like a cat; when she was comfortable, you could stroke her fur, and she would purr contentedly. If she was unhappy though, and you still petted her, she would flash her claws at you. But most of the ti ...
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