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... at are you thinking about me this time?” Han Shanyue did not answer her previous question and instead, he sat halfway along the embroidered couch, looking at her casually.
Ning Xuemo then massaged her wrist which was swollen from his grip. “I’m guessing sire’s age,” she would not let him pass on her previous question.
“How old do you think I look like?”
“You ought to be in your seventies or eighties already, aren’t you?” Ning Xuemo tried to probe.
His appe ...
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