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The smell of picnics
As soon as we shouted in a circle, we were really tired and hungry, so we wolfed down our bowls. What a wonderful picnic it would be if it weren't for Lao Wang's!
Wan Li is clear. Six of us, four of us worked hard to dig the stone for building water conservancy under the sweat. The huge slogan "Agricultural Dazhai" on the oncoming hillside was plated with a layer of golden sunshine.
Smoke billowed from the cliff a little further away. Xiao Wei is busy having a picnic. Our one-year-old, puzzled Lao Wang, with a Luohan in his stomach and a straw hat, kept fanning and stood aside as an off-site guide. The smell of meat and vegetables drifted with the wind.
"Do you know where the money for today's picnic came from?" No one noticed when Lao Wang strolled over and stood next to us and asked.
We didn't stop what we were doing, but answered him with puzzled eyes.
"Remember," Lao Wang used to clear his throat, "after the Spring Festival, the school will be green, and Xiao Wei will go home and buy a batch of Shatian pomelo seedlings to plant. Xiao Wei went to buy thirty seedlings and said that they were two yuan each. I told Lao Lu in the office that it was expensive. Xiao Wei said it was expensive, so it was one yuan and five yuan each. I paid the money at the office. " Lao Wang paused and raised his voice: "Xiao Wei is famous for his petty efforts in the institute and will never do anything that hurts people!" get through ...