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... d palace, a woman asked, her palms on the table and her smiling face like a rose in the wind before his face. “Poisoned wine? A white silk rope? Carrying a dirt bag? [1] Knife?”


“What kind of death do you want?” The man poured himself a cup of wine with steady hands, the transparent rice wine that filled the tilted cup reflecting her misty eyes... These years, she had lived a life of mystery, and even to death refused to let him see through her.


“The most delightful w ...

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