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... rice porridge.

Dip a little, put it in the nose.

"Miss, this porridge..."

The night was clear, and suddenly there was a cold chill.

She handed the bowl back to Zi Ling, took out a piece of cloth and wiped her fingers.

"Who is the rice, this bowl of porridge, let people drink it."

Zi Ling holds the bowl and shakes his hand: "Miss means...someone is young..."

She didn't even dare to think about it.

The little face, the time is pale, and the s ...

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