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... passively.
Suddenly, he saw a few snow-white foxtails protruding from Xinyue's skirt, rippling mischievously following the owner's wishes.
As if taking revenge, he grabbed one and held it in his hand.
The feeling of blood loss came as expected.
But this time, I don't know if it was an illusion, he felt that An Xinyue's lips were a little closer to him, so close that he could smell the fragrant breath from the small cherry mouth with a slight movement of the tip of his ...
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