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... earing this price, Qian Yongcai found it acceptable.
But after guessing the price, Xiao Xian’s pretty little hand was still raised; she was truly shocked by the price tag. Five thousand—why five thousand? That’s more than what Mr. Xiao Hua makes in a year from planting rice.
"No way, fifty thousand?" Qian Yongcai’s heart bled; he had been swindled by a girl as fresh and lovely as a little jasmine flower.
"However, this is an imported tree that you really can’t buy domesti ...
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