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Wen Mingtang looked at Princess Liyang, who was obsessed with the velvet flower fan, fanning the fan in his hand every now and then. She occasionally glanced at Zhao Mengzhuo who was lying on the ground, with a look of disgust in her eyes.
Subconsciously clenched her skirt and robe, took a deep breath, and was about to speak, when the crowd that was still gathering around suddenly dispersed automatically.
I don't know if it's Wen Mingtang's illusion, but I always feel ...
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