Over-the-top silly blurb:
Calabash Brothers, Calabash Brothers, seven flowers on one vine.
Ding-dong, clatter and bang, what mighty powers!
Ding-dong, clatter and bang, Calabash Brothers!
This is the whole story of one kid growing a bunch of kids, and then the bunch of kids overpowering the kid who grew them.
Artsy young-writer blurb:
In summer, a black seed was planted.
In autumn, a basket of giant calabashes was harvested.
Shamelessly cute version:
Raising calabashes to be adorably cute, endlessly~
Though they grow up to turn the tables and attack ╮(╯▽╰)╭
NC version:
All the fanfic plots in this story come from Chinese animation, including Calabash Brothers, Mighty Calabash Brothers, Havoc in Heaven, and many other Chinese animated works. No explanation needed for NC Chinese animation! No explanation needed for our love of Chinese animation! Hehe, you know, sometimes Chinese animation can be both cute and gay, enough to make your nose bleed!
Xiao Moyao's completed BL fanfic:
Also: come visit my profile, please~
★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆
Xiao Moyao: My bestie says this story of mine is just like this ↓
To protest, she decided not to talk to me for a week. So, to cheer her up, I started writing again.
Now 2021 is almost 2022, and there is another hopeless book in this life.
Hello! I'm new here!
I don't know where I got this impression. It seems like my sister is dead?
There are always pits in Jinjiang where widows are buried
It's 2018 now
Don't abandon the article! ! ! !
If you dig a hole but don't fill it, you will be in trouble! ! ! !
Hey, has the author updated it yet?
It's beautiful~ but you, the author, are better! ! ! TAT
"Are you new here?" Someone asked me. . "Yes!" . "You looked good climbing down!" . I think she was praising me. I always do this, crawling from the bottom of one pit to the bottom of another pit. I am used to climbing, so I am very skilled. . "Would you like to crawl out together and take a breath?" . She invited me like this. . "No, thank you!" I was tired of climbing and wanted to rest at the bottom of this pit. . There are pits on the ground at any time. When you climb out, you don't know which step ahead will lead you to fall into the next pit. I looked up at her posture as she climbed out, heading towards hope step by step, and heading towards the bottom of the pit step by step. There was numbness, fatigue, and struggle. So someone goes out and someone comes in again. . "Hello!" . "Hello!" . "Are you comfortable squatting?" . "My legs are a little numb, I'll lie down later!" . "Lie down slowly!" . "Do you want to go out too?" . "Yes, maybe there will be a new world in the next pit!" . You see, people can never give up hope. . So, I crawled. I crawled all over the pit. I'm still at the bottom of the hole. . Crawling requires such a posture, with hands on the ground and legs kneeling on the ground. This is really not a pleasant posture, but when crawling, my eyes are infinitely close to the bottom of the pit, looking at every place over and over again, like a cow chewing the cud, chewing every word. . I have forgotten the initial taste. What I am waiting for is tomorrow's food. I am a fish with my head raised, constantly devouring, never stopping, until the day when the food suffocates me to death. . But what I use more is the "squatting" posture. This is a posture soaked in the blood and engraved in the bones. This is the posture in which I keep looking up. This is a 45-degree posture toward the sky. . It is said that there is a creature called a bird in the sky. They come and go freely and are never restrained. Their wings are spread out and their bodies are light. I think they will definitely not be able to learn the "squat" movement. No part of their bone structure is designed for squatting. Creation is so discriminating against them that you can hardly imagine how much fun they have in living. . Maybe one day, you will meet me squatting at the bottom of the pit, like me, raising my head to the sky, crying in the wind; . Maybe one day, you will meet me crawling around, like me, with long hair on my face, and nails falling off. . Climbing towards you step by step, passing my hand through your black hair, passing through your network cable and my resentment, do you know who I am? Please reprint. [Well, this is transferred from the hands of a certain rape flower TX, please feel free to transfer it, and it is dedicated to every author who opens a hole but does not fill it]
This article is reproduced from Jinjiang Literature City, original address: http://www. Jjwxc. Net/onebook. Php? Novelid=1659100
Now 2021 is almost 2022, and there is another hopeless book in this life.
Hello! I'm new here!
I don't know where I got this impression. It seems like my sister is dead?
There are always pits in Jinjiang where widows are buried
It's 2018 now
Don't abandon the article! ! ! !
If you dig a hole but don't fill it, you will be in trouble! ! ! !
Hey, has the author updated it yet?
It's beautiful~ but you, the author, are better! ! ! TAT
"Are you new here?" Someone asked me. . "Yes!" . "You looked good climbing down!" . I think she was praising me. I always do this, crawling from the bottom of one pit to the bottom of another pit. I am used to climbing, so I am very skilled. . "Would you like to crawl out together and take a breath?" . She invited me like this. . "No, thank you!" I was tired of climbing and wanted to rest at the bottom of this pit. . There are pits on the ground at any time. When you climb out, you don't know which step ahead will lead you to fall into the next pit. I looked up at her posture as she climbed out, heading towards hope step by step, and heading towards the bottom of the pit step by step. There was numbness, fatigue, and struggle. So someone goes out and someone comes in again. . "Hello!" . "Hello!" . "Are you comfortable squatting?" . "My legs are a little numb, I'll lie down later!" . "Lie down slowly!" . "Do you want to go out too?" . "Yes, maybe there will be a new world in the next pit!" . You see, people can never give up hope. . So, I crawled. I crawled all over the pit. I'm still at the bottom of the hole. . Crawling requires such a posture, with hands on the ground and legs kneeling on the ground. This is really not a pleasant posture, but when crawling, my eyes are infinitely close to the bottom of the pit, looking at every place over and over again, like a cow chewing the cud, chewing every word. . I have forgotten the initial taste. What I am waiting for is tomorrow's food. I am a fish with my head raised, constantly devouring, never stopping, until the day when the food suffocates me to death. . But what I use more is the "squatting" posture. This is a posture soaked in the blood and engraved in the bones. This is the posture in which I keep looking up. This is a 45-degree posture toward the sky. . It is said that there is a creature called a bird in the sky. They come and go freely and are never restrained. Their wings are spread out and their bodies are light. I think they will definitely not be able to learn the "squat" movement. No part of their bone structure is designed for squatting. Creation is so discriminating against them that you can hardly imagine how much fun they have in living. . Maybe one day, you will meet me squatting at the bottom of the pit, like me, raising my head to the sky, crying in the wind; . Maybe one day, you will meet me crawling around, like me, with long hair on my face, and nails falling off. . Climbing towards you step by step, passing my hand through your black hair, passing through your network cable and my resentment, do you know who I am? Please reprint. [Well, this is transferred from the hands of a certain rape flower TX, please feel free to transfer it, and it is dedicated to every author who opens a hole but does not fill it] This article is reproduced from Jinjiang Literature City, original address: http://www. Jjwxc. Net/onebook. Php? Novelid=1659100