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This was the second time Fu Huaichu truly saw Su Zhiruan. He stood in place, staring steadily at her.
Three years, neither long nor short, had done little to change Su Zhiruan’s appearance, but her temperament had become calmer and more enchanting.
She stood at the doorway, with her long hair pinned up, and a golden hairpin swaying as she moved, dressed in smoke-blue silk adorned with patterns of Liuyun woven in silver threads. Her skin was as white as snow, her features li ...
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