The spectators won't wait for me, none of them will wait, and I can't wait either.
The brush was so secretly hidden, who would have thought that an actor's bedside would even have a hidden compartment, and I still found it.
Master didn't panic, she found me directly.
"Hand it over!" Master's tone was unexpectedly flat and wooden, as if what she asked me to take out was an unwanted old coat.
Without the brush makeup, Master looked a little dull, but I still looked young and bright. Why should she compare with me? Why did she step on me like this?
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