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... lattery from the other side, as if it didn’t cost a thing.
Sun Dasheng outwardly appeared pleasant.
But inside, he was sneering: a weasel wishing the chickens a Happy New Year.
He didn’t particularly like this group of pure businessmen in the private room.
However, their influence was substantial.
He couldn’t just flip the table; he had to go along for now.
When it came to playing Tai Chi, he was naturally not as skillful as these old foxes, but as ...
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