A little boy held this bunch of sweet-scented osmanthus in his hand and chased another slightly older child while running and shouting, "Sister, you are so beautiful! This is for you, can you marry me?" "Xiao Ying can't be rude, this is a brother, a boy." Zhao's mother came over and hugged Zhao Yingying, "Can't a boy marry me? Well... Then I'll marry him!"
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