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... eir heads listlessly.
The grass on the edge of the field was also wilted by the sun, like an eggplant beaten by frost.
Cicada sang a symphony that she thought was beautiful on the branch tirelessly.
But it made everyone feel extremely bored.
In the muddy water with hot feet, the villagers in tatters are working in full swing.
Some people picked rice seedlings, some people planted rice seedlings, the sweat on the forehead fell drop by drop, merging with the ...
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