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... prepared, which would be fair compensation for what he was about to do.
He took the poem and looked at it for a while, then calmly placed it on the tray in the maid’s hand. He didn’t even glance at Sima Heyan, and replied to the empress obediently. “Although this poem is quite similar to mine, it wasn’t written by me. Please do me justice.”
“If you didn’t write it, why would your younger sister say it was yours and that First Miss Mo went to your study and stole it?” the queen said ...
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