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... splashed onto his hand, the brief burning sensation like sparks drilling into his skin.
He set down the teapot, his fingertips slightly curling from the burn, but his heart felt as cold as if it were filled with icy wind.
“Are you... doing well?”
His voice was a bit hoarse.
Ignoring the red mark on his hand, he poured out the water used for rinsing the cup and brewed a new pot of tea, pushing it towards Qin Zheng.
Qin Zheng didn’t touch the tea and simply ...
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