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... hen Qinghan indeed hadn’t eaten such things before, filled with emotions and touch, didn’t know what to say.
Yuchi signaled that there was no problem.
He then brought Shen Qinghan to an open space.
"What do you see?" Yuchi asked pretending to be profound.
"Flowers...grass?" Shen Qinghan blinked, a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl, "And butterflies?"
"Not just these."
Yuchi’s fingers formed into sword formulas, casually waving twice in front, tip of ...
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