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... top floor, a presidential office decked in lavish decoration.
Cheng Jia stood in front of the desk, looking at Mo Zixuan behind the desk, his face shadowed; cynically she thought to herself: Not everyone has the charisma and authority needed to sit in this position.
In the same office, on the same chair, when Mo Xiuchen sat here, even if he didn’t utter a word, just one indifferent glance was enough to instill fear and awe.
But look at Mo Zixuan now, no matter how furious ...
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