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Su Zhiruan closed her eyes, leaned against the carriage, and peacefully fell asleep; below her was a lantern that had gone out, a large cloak neatly folded beside her. Her slender wrists looked very white against her dark emerald long dress, exposed from the empty sleeves, while outside the carriage window, the wind and snow howled, yet she slept soundly.
There was a small stove in the carriage, and given the compact space, it wasn’t cold.
After Fu Huaichu boarded the carri ...
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