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... attitude more and more irritable and uncontrollable.
His hands were clipped behind his back, and the big hands covering his eyelids even deprived him of vision. His two lips were like brocades of flowers that had been beaten by wind and rain, marking them silently like any kind of savage creature.
How could Wen Xien bear this kind of treatment, pushing He Runcheng's head, but the man's hair was too short to be grasped, and it hurt his delicate palms, so he could only desperat ...
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