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Pointing at the vegetable garden of Qiao Xiaomai’s house, Fan Jia asked, “Those are the chilli peppers?”
“Yes,” answered Qiao Xiaomai.
The peppers were already red, ready to be harvested within the next few days.
When the time comes, she would keep the seeds and send the chilli skins to Yang Ye.
“Excellent,” Fan Jia, unable to forget the addictively spicy cucumber in chilli oil, clicked his tongue. “When can I have some?”
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