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... the camera!"
The machine focused on the two at the center. Anne Hart, clad in a red silk dress adorned with phoenix patterns, sat on a stone bench under the wutong tree. Her long hair was tied up, with black locks cascading like a waterfall behind her, slightly fluttering as the breeze blew.
The lines at the corner of her eyes were sharp, her gaze proud and cold. She casually lifted her eyes to look at the unexpected visitor before her—Yvaine.
"Care for a drink?"
...
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