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... You’re not even worthy. Scram!” Xi Chao retorted coldly.

Zhao Ziyu chuckled. “I’ll dedicate a poem to Qin Jinxian: ‘Clouds think of clothes, flowers think of beauty. Spring breezes brush the threshold, dew glimmers rich and heavy.’”

The recitation drew gasps of admiration. This poem was a masterpiece, perfectly capturing feminine elegance. Who would’ve thought they’d hear such a gem in a place like the Pleasure Quarter? Was a famous scholar secretly among them?

Qin Jinxia ...

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