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... qin, did not make a sound, and there was no change in his eyes. He was quiet.
The fingers slowly stroked on the surface of the piano, and the sharp knife of the head would cut to the top of the moon.
The hand that stroked the string suddenly hit the middle finger, and the one finger picked up the seventh string, slightly pulling it, and the fingertip was a bullet.
Just listening to the sound of a crisp string of fiddles, a wind blade flew out and went like lightning.
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