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"Hey, that one has a nice color."
The clothes shopping didn’t go quite as Qin Guanglin had imagined. He usually just stood in front of a pile of clothes, picked out the one he liked best, checked the size, paid, bagged it, and left.
He Fang seemed to treat him like a clothes hanger, having him try on whatever style she saw, and none were the ordinary short-sleeve T-shirts but all sorts of strange styles he’d never usually consider.
"...I think that short-sleeve o ...
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