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In the luxuriously decorated restaurant, glasses clinked and laughter filled the air.
Today was a reunion of old friends: Quan Yu, Qiao Yishen, Chi Zhengjun, and a man wearing a black traditional Chinese jacket.
He was thirty-two or thirty-three. The black material of his traditional jacket was deep and felt substantial. The fasteners beneath his Adam’s apple were tightly done, and his elbows rested casually on the table’s edge. Silver thread embroidered a pattern of a drago ...
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