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... xious, his steps hurried, and without even knocking, he barged directly into his father Yin Haoran’s meditation room.
Yin Haoran was dressed in a long robe, sitting cross-legged on a cushion, calmly threading a string of small-leaf red sandalwood prayer beads through his fingers, silently reciting scriptures.
The ancient bronze incense burner beside him wafted trails of smoke, adding a sense of tranquility to the room.
Yin Haoran had spent an extra hour on his "homework" ...
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