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... tudy where Zhao Changhe was seated, writing intently. Beside him, Baoqin stood gracefully, grinding ink and pouring tea, her gentle gaze occasionally drifting to his profile, filled with warmth and tenderness.

Tang Wanzhuang clicked her tongue. The little bitch is done for. She’s happier serving my husband than serving me. Look at her, look at that softness in her eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror. Well, at least he’s just writing and not doing something more... provocative.

...

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