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Then he stretched out his hand, already full of wrinkles, and took Ji Chicheng’s hand, walking toward the main entrance.
At this moment, the halo of a loving father enveloped the old man. The silhouettes of father and son appeared so harmonious.
In such a large family, it’s just like the ancient emperor’s harem; those favored will inevitably attract jealousy.
Ji Ruoqian, still fuming over being punished to write a hundred ancient poems, stared at the doorway. ...
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