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... o you.
What was this hobby of making people cry?
Bai Weiwei held her breath, looking at him without crying.
Qi Chimu’s eyes were dark. Suddenly, he threatened in a cold voice, “I will tell everyone tomorrow that you are the wrong child. Your original parents were too poor to eat and wear clothes, slaves who lived in thatched-roof houses.”
Bai Weiwei became frightened. “Slaves?”
Qi Chimu narrowed his eyes dangerously, all the hidden evils in his heart rising up.
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