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... ng pen, he felt a little greedy, and couldn't help but tried turning it, but the pen was like a basketball, and it seemed that it was not so flexible in his hand. It flew out and rolled down the table to the back row.

Chi Le looked back, and the pen stopped under Sheng Zhuo's table. He glanced at the English teacher on the podium, leaned his back against the chair, and said in a low voice to Sheng Zhuo behind him, "Help me pick up the pen."

Sheng Zhuo smiled softly, and deliberatel ...

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