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... estful sleep. Then she had headed to that battle wits with Zhou Xizhong before rushing anxiously her to the Ancestral Temple. She had pushed her body and mind to the limits, and her weakened body had not been able to resist the illness.
Ning Yi bit his lips, his face as pale as frosted autumn grass. Feng Zhiwei’s body was a feverish stove in his arms, and she had clearly been ill for a while now. When had it begun? She had refused to say a word, not allowing herself to collapse until ever ...
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