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“Is it flavorful?” Consort Gyokuyou asked, but Maomao shook her head. “No, ma’am. Touching it can induce nausea and difficulty breathing.” “And yet you’ve just had it in your mouth,” Jinshi said with a probing look.
It wasn’t that Maomao hated beautiful things. But when something was too beautiful, one started to feel that the remotest blemish was like a crime, unforgivable.
“It’s not a question of whether you would. But whether you could.”

