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“Qiao Muniang, on what basis do you tie us up? What embroidery room? We’ve never done such a thing, and you’re just trying to blame us for your own deserved divine punishment?”
Qiao Dalang was indeed much shrewder than Qiao Lianhua; when cornered, he still played the role of a dying duck with a hard beak.
Muniang said coldly, “I’ve kept that chopped-off beam, with such obvious knife marks. Do you think I’m a fool?”
Qiao Dalang’s face changed, and Qiao Lianhua ...
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