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... g got up to wave his hand, “Mom…”

It was Mu Chenyan!

Song Jiawen sat stiffly at the table, not turning around.

Jiang Yan glanced at her before turning to look at Mu Chenyan, who was striding over.

The imagined rich lady and national painting master, graceful, luxurious, and so young that her real age couldn’t be discerned… did not exist. The woman before him had greying hair. Perhaps because she had walked too quickly on her way here, or maybe due to nervousness, ...

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