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... hang’s study was bright, and the servant next to him was helping to grind ink, struggling to hold back laughter.
Song Qianhang was copying documents while cursing, "What kind of ’Precepts for Women’ is this? It’s all nonsense, what obsolete thoughts?!"
"How can anyone still make me write these things!?"
"That elder brother is not human, truly inhumane!"
The next day, Song Qianhang sat down for breakfast with dark circles under his eyes, yawning several times.
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