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In the month of March, in a small city in Ancient Southern China, it was drizzling. In a small riverside restaurant in Lin’an City, raindrops dripped from the eaves outside.

The spring rain had been falling for about half a month, and the willow tree in front of the restaurant had sprouted. At the Eight Immortal Table in the house, a young woman who was about 17 to 18 years old was clenching a piece of pape ...

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