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... ould I go?”

Jiang Min was just joking. If she really wanted to be a boss, she might as well stay in her family’s company. Now that they had finished chatting, they had to get down to work.

“Have you been inside? I saw you bring a lot of mechanical equipment over just now. Are you planning to install them in each room now?” asked Jiang Min.

Tan Rou nodded. “I came to see the rooms the day before yesterday, but I found that some of the rooms weren’t renovated yet. If I inst ...

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She fought her way to gain his trust and became his best assistant. However, things changed quietly.

She noticed that he was getting closer and closer and wanted to remind him not to cross the line, but he said, “If we don’t cross the line, how can we fall in love?”

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

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The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

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Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

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