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Little Mr. Yan was lying on Fu Chen’s shoulder and sleeping with his head tilted. There were a few drops of saliva stuck to the corner of his mouth as he slept soundly. His little hand was still holding Fu Chen’s collar tightly, and he murmured and twisted his butt every time he touched him.
Qiao Aiyun felt a little helpless and prepared to carry him away forcefully.
He refused to leave and kept burrowing into Fu Chen’s arms. Fu Chen copied scriptures and burned incense ...
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