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... nd the meaning of these words for a moment, and Bai Qinghan raised her eyes, the deep abyss-like black pupils swirling with a glint of mysterious indigo and ink blue.
These tranquil eyes, against her pale skin whiter than snow, made her seem like a sprite stepping out of a painting, or perhaps a fawn lying in the green grass at dawn, harmless and endearing.
Yet it was such a sprite that spoke words brimming with hatred.
"I loathe Da Chen."
Under An Jing’s astonish ...
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