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... litter into the ground, rubbed his sore right arm, and said loudly, "Mr. Zhao, it’s getting dark. I should be heading back."
Inside, the bushy-bearded Zhao Hu was weaving a bamboo basket. Hearing Chu Fan, he put down his work and strode out.
When he saw the mountain of firewood piled in the courtyard, he couldn’t help but gasp.
Even two strong men working together might not be able to chop that much dry wood in half a day...
"Fan..."
Zhao Hu’s eyes went wi ...
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