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... hes, and the wound had been bandaged again.
The breeze was blowing lightly, the wind chimes under the eaves ding-dong, and the Japanese-style house exuded a touch of sandalwood. Su Zibao glanced around, but there was no one there.
What about Pei Yi? Was it a dream last night?
Su Zibao got up from the tatami with bare feet, only to realize that he was wearing a bathrobe-style kimono. The red and white skirt barely covered his thighs, exposing his long and tight legs, snow-whi ...
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