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... ary was unusually quiet.
A few students around pretended to read, but their books were upside down.
How obedient.
Isn’t this the living Yama who once made his opponent cry during sand table exercises?
Behind the bookshelf.
Zhao Tiezhu retracted his head.
He held his cheek.
Toothache.
Sour.
"Come out."
Gu Yanshen didn’t even turn his head; his voice was as cold as ice shards.
Zhao Tiezhu shivered.
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