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... “Consort Zhao cannot just depend on Mother’s affection for her if she wants to pit herself against the consorts in the palace.” Feng Yuran said coldly. He picked out some fruits from the rack beside him while he spoke and placed them in front of Mo Xuetong. Then, he picked up the hot water that was warming on the stove and made a cup of tea for both of them. They watched as the tea brewed and fragrance filled the air. His handsome face seemed as noble as the faces of gods.
“Aren’t you afra ...
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