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... blistering heat of days past. The previous jumble of events had slowly settled down, and Old Jiang Madame’s death had seemingly been slowly forgotten by everyone.

In Jinying Wangfu, a snow pigeon fluttered in through the window and landed on the boxwood table in the middle of the room. Its wings accidentally came in contact with the ink in the well of the ink stone, and the snow-white feathers immediately became tinged with black.

Xiao Shao lifted the snow pigeon from the edge o ...

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