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"Jingjing, do you want some?" Qu the Hunter asked.
Qu Jing looked at the pastries. She’s not foolish; in recent days, being able to have enough sweet potatoes and corn was enough to make the village children envious. The legendary white steamed buns only appeared in the village gossip about the landlord’s son who ate himself to death.
The pastries in front of her, except for the poorly presented black steamed bun, looked far more exquisite than white steamed buns ...
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