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... han Bo Yan’s, was smooth except for a slight callous on the fingertips from frequent typing, unlike Bo Yan, who often practiced Sanda.

Xia Siyu paused for a moment, Qin Baizhou also frowned, “You don’t have a fever, do you?”

“No, it’s just a tonsil inflammation affecting my vocal cords, it’s not serious, I’ve already taken some cold medicine.”

Xia Siyu took a step back. Just for that instant, it seemed as if Qin Baizhou almost wanted to press his forehead against hers.

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