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C81 Farce

As she spoke, Lin Qingrou sat down on a corner of the sofa, looking drowsy. From time to time, she raised her head to look at the letters on the sofa. She felt that it was a bit strange. It was a white envelope with no stamps, no postmark or postcode, just the message of the recipient.

Lin Qingrou picked it up and examined it before squeezing the thickness of the paper. Just then

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