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Jiang Xuan, dressed in a white long skirt, sits still on a swing made of dried vines. Her slender jade fingers grip the vines, her eyes in a daze as she gazes at the young man clad in a white robe with a handsome face and wrist guards, seated in the center of the lake.
Zhao Huai is currently resting and cultivating on the lake surface.
Amazingly, he stands in the middle of the lake without sinking, appearing to be a banished immortal from afar.
Ripples continuous ...
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