PREVIEW

... h strokes of lightning collided in the skies without pause and burst forth into glaring white. The ice-cold, desolate Cold Palace, in the contrast by flashes of light, was several times more prominently eerie.


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“Let me out! Zhong er! My Zhong er1!” Yao Mo Xin crazily pounded on the vermilion painted wooden doors of the Cold Palace, postnatal blood dying her unadorned garment. After an entire n ...

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