Reversed Life: Chapter 23 - Tea Eggs, Dumplings, and Rice Noodle Rolls (Cheung Fun)
Chapter 23: Tea Eggs, Dumplings, and Rice Noodle Rolls (Cheung Fun)
Father Mu and Mother Mu bustled about the entire night; the living room light stayed on till dawn.
A little after six, Qiao Nan was awakened by an irresistible aroma. When he came out, he discovered that Mu’s parents were already gone from the house.
Still groggy, he followed the scent. The kitchen light was still on, illuminating a note left on the dining table in the faint morning glow. He picked it up and saw a crooked line of handwriting—
“Your dad and I went out. There’s tea eggs and spicy pepper soup your dad made yesterday warming in the kitchen. Eat your fill before school. —Mom”
Oh right. Qiao Nan rubbed himself awake. He remembered now—Mu’s parents had said yesterday they were going to sell breakfast at some Youth Plaza place.
That couple really worked fast. In just one night they’d already prepared all the ingredients. The enormous basin of pickled chili peppers Father Mu had made yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Qiao Nan slipped into the kitchen, where the fragrance grew even richer, coming from a small pot on the stove.
When he opened it, he saw dark brown broth with eggs bobbing inside. The shells had already been removed. There weren’t many—seven or eight at most—each one round and plump, steeped to a tempting glossy sheen.
A few tea leaves still clung to the surface.
Tea leaves…
Qiao Nan silently mourned for the expensive aged tea cake Qiao Yuanshan had treasured for years. But the feeling quickly vanished—for no other reason than that this pot of tea eggs smelled ridiculously good.
Of course, he’d eaten tea eggs before. Forget elsewhere—even the bustling breakfast stalls around No. 12 High School sold them everywhere. Honestly speaking, tea eggs were just boiled eggs simmered in seasoned broth. At most, they tasted a little richer than plain boiled eggs. What was so special about them?
The moment the hungry young master Qiao fished one out with chopsticks and bit into it, he sincerely apologized to tea eggs in his heart.
He had been wrong. This was clearly extremely special, okay?
A faint tea fragrance mixed with the unique braising broth flooded his mouth as the egg yielded beneath his teeth, soaking every taste bud. Qiao Nan couldn’t even tell what spices had been added to the broth; he only knew the seasoning was perfectly balanced, with an incredibly rich aftertaste. The springy egg white had completely transcended its bland original flavor, becoming savory and fragrant. Even stranger, the yolk wasn’t dry at all. Though fully cooked, it still had the thick, molten texture of a soft-boiled center.
Because he’d been exercising more lately, his appetite had grown considerably. Qiao Nan ate two eggs in a row before stopping, still unsatisfied, and lifted the lid of the nearby soup pot.
Inside was spicy pepper soup—probably made by Father Mu right before leaving. After sitting for a while, it had cooled to the perfect drinking temperature.
A faint peppery aroma rose from the thick soup, perfectly matched with minced meat, diced mushrooms, and shredded vegetables inside. Fresh chopped scallions and cilantro floated on top, and after mixing in Father Mu’s homemade chili oil, one sip delivered salty, savory, fresh heat that instantly revitalized the spirit.
His mood abruptly lifted. Qiao Nan stood there in the kitchen and ate until he was full. Then he looked around, grabbed a plastic bag, scooped the remaining tea eggs into it while they were still hot, hurried back to his room to wash up and change clothes, and climbed out the window for his morning run.
****
When Mu Xiangxiang came downstairs after receiving his text, she looked puzzled. “Why are you here?”
Qiao Nan had originally wanted to ask whether she was feeling better, but the moment he saw her, his eyebrows shot up first. “…Why are you wearing so much?”
Spring had already begun. Though City A was still cold, it wasn’t nearly as freezing as before the New Year. Yet Mu Xiangxiang wore sweater over sweater and down jacket over down jacket, bundled up so heavily that even her naturally tall and upright frame looked round and clumsy like a ball.
Wrapped up like that, even walking was difficult. Recalling how she’d been intercepted one after another by Qiao Rui and Father Qiao before leaving the house, Mu Xiangxiang replied expressionlessly in resignation: “You should thank your dad and brother for their concern.”
Although Qiao Nan had already noticed some changes in his family, hearing things like this still felt strange to him. They’d been distant for too long. At that moment, he genuinely couldn’t imagine his father and older brother telling someone to dress warmly. After a pause, he handed over the bag he was carrying. “…Forget it. Here. Your dad made these tea eggs.”
Mu Xiangxiang froze briefly before slowly reaching out to accept them.
She found it hard to believe this was real.
Not long ago, hearing from Qiao Nan that her father had started cooking had already shaken her emotionally. Now, without any warning, she was suddenly seeing the finished product. She stared silently at the bag. The tea eggs still radiated warmth, soaking in a little broth. Even through the plastic bag she could smell the faint drifting fragrance.
Mu Xiangxiang suddenly remembered her childhood. Back then, before her father’s accident, he used to patiently teach her how to cook by hand. Her father’s dishes were always the most popular. Even managers from neighboring factories often came over just to freeload meals. Sometimes huge vats containing hundreds or thousands of tea eggs would be snatched clean the moment they were carried into the cafeteria.
Little Mu Xiangxiang had worshipped her father then. Her father had been tall, handsome, humorous, gentle, devoted to the family. Being with him meant never having to worry about anything; she always learned so much from him.
When had that towering pillar in her memories gradually been replaced by a frail, stooped figure?
The egg was still warm. Mu Xiangxiang carefully peeled it open and slowly took a bite. A soft sheen of moisture appeared in her calm eyes.
After all these years, her father’s skills hadn’t dulled at all. The food he made carried a flavor that could pierce through time itself.
But after feeling moved for a while, faced with her current reality, the complicated expression on her face slowly faded again.
Beside her, Qiao Nan stood with his hands in his pockets, idly waiting for thanks. Unexpectedly, what he received instead was a deeply unwilling look from her.
Qiao Nan froze. What was that supposed to mean? He’d specially come early in the morning to deliver tea eggs, and not only was she not thanking him, she was looking at him like that?
Seeing how completely oblivious he was—already spoiled by Father Mu’s excellent cooking and ignorant of true suffering—Mu Xiangxiang thought about her own circumstances and nearly broke down internally.
It all started that morning.
Trying to save money, Mu Xiangxiang had developed the habit during her stay at the Qiao household of waking early to memorize vocabulary while making breakfast. After Qiao Yuanshan and Qiao Rui returned, she’d had to prepare several times more food every day.
So after her fever subsided, she got up early as usual and headed downstairs. But the moment she stepped down the staircase, she sensed that something was very different.
The atmosphere was hard to describe—stiff? tense? In any case, it definitely wasn’t relaxing. Mu Xiangxiang immediately had a bad feeling, and soon realized her instincts were correct.
Because right afterward, Qiao Yuanshan emerged from the kitchen wearing that pink Peppa Pig apron of his. Seeing her, his chubby face broke into a kindly smile. “You’re up so early?”
Mu Xiangxiang stared at the flour all over his hands for a moment. “…What are you doing?”
“Dumplings!” Qiao Yuanshan answered enthusiastically. “No need for you to work today. Dad’s making breakfast. Just wait to eat later.”
Then he returned to the kitchen, muttering to himself as he continued bustling around.
The Qiao family kitchen was enormous, but now it was such a disaster that there wasn’t even space left on the island counter. In front of Qiao Yuanshan sat a bowl that seemed to contain filling ingredients. Holding a soy sauce bottle in one hand and cooking wine in the other, he stared at a video playing on the wall screen while aggressively dumping ingredients into the bowl.
“Cooking wine, appropriate amount…”
Glug glug glug—half a bottle poured in.
“Soy sauce, appropriate amount…”
Another half bottle.
“A little salt…”
Clack clack clack—three spoonfuls.
“Doubanjiang, doubanjiang…” (Fermented Bean Paste)
Half a jar dumped in.
The minced meat mixed with unevenly chopped scallions until the original color was completely unrecognizable, emitting a smell like dirty shoe insoles.
Luo Meisheng followed behind him trying to stop him. “Why are you working so hard first thing in the morning? You still have to go to the company later. Don’t wear yourself out.”
But Qiao Yuanshan, experiencing the joys of being a family cook for the first time, looked full of fighting spirit. “Not tired at all! Taking care of my son is only natural. What’s tiring about making breakfast for him?”
“…………” Watching him stir the filling so violently the whole island counter shook, Luo Meisheng could only tactfully try another angle. “…But you don’t really have any experience. Yesterday was your first time making porridge, and today you’re already attempting soup dumplings. Isn’t that difficulty spike a little too high? Maybe the kids won’t even like it.”
Qiao Yuanshan immediately grinned smugly. “They will. I’ve got talent, you know. Did you forget? Yesterday when I made ginger porridge for the first time, even Nannan’s friend said it tasted good.”
Then his voice suddenly paused, and he shot Luo Meisheng a condemning look. “You’re the only one with weird taste.”
Luo Meisheng practically wanted to kneel in despair. Heavens above, she was innocent!
But Qiao Yuanshan was already completely intoxicated by the joy of caring for his son. Once again, he poured fifty milliliters of premium champagne into the increasingly black, increasingly overflowing meat filling and happily continued stirring!
At this point in the story, Mu Xiangxiang tilted her head back and sighed, her face pale.
Across from her, Qiao Nan was utterly dumbfounded. His mind was full of the taste of yesterday’s watery porridge. Looking at Mu Xiangxiang, he spoke with indescribable awkwardness. “…Sorry.”
No matter how strained their relationship was, the person causing trouble was still his biological father.
Especially compared to Father Mu, whose cooking skills were exceptional, the life scenario Mu Xiangxiang had unlocked was practically nightmare difficulty.
“…Forget it.”
Regardless of his cooking ability, Qiao Yuanshan’s intentions came from kindness. After struggling internally for a moment, Mu Xiangxiang let it go. She wiped her mouth after finishing the last egg. “Your dad’s just worried about you, after all.”
Qiao Nan froze briefly. Feeling the strange warmth stirring in his chest, he lowered his head with a soft laugh.
“You sure talk a lot.”
Yet all the way back, a smile remained uncontrollably hanging on his face.
But halfway there, he suddenly paused.
It felt like he’d forgotten something.
Qiao Nan stopped in place and thought for a while, turning everything over in his head, but couldn’t figure it out.
Forget it. Probably just his imagination.
****
At that very moment, at the Mu house, inside the cramped little bedroom—
Mu Song sat up tiredly in bed when his fourth alarm vibrated. He’d spent the entire previous night hanging laundry to dry, and afterward had even dreamed about hanging laundry. By now he felt utterly drained.
A rich aroma filled the room, finally giving him some motivation to get up. Mu Song ruffled his hair, got dressed, and opened the wardrobe. As usual, he reached toward a pair of ripped jeans— Then paused slightly.
His sister’s mocking smile from the night before, when she’d looked him up and down, suddenly flashed through his mind.
Mu Song: “………………”
Half a minute later, his arm shifted direction toward the casual pants hanging beside the ripped jeans.
For some reason, changing clothes today felt especially humiliating. In any case, he was definitely in a bad mood. Pulling a sour face, Mu Song opened the bedroom door. By the light, he also noticed the note on the dining table. After glancing through it carelessly, he turned and headed toward the kitchen.
Beside the stove sat a used bowl and chopsticks. Without even asking, Mu Song knew who’d left them there. Eating and not even bothering to wash the dishes afterward—he was briefly speechless at how lazy his sister apparently was, despite the family never having realized it before. Still, he picked up the bowl and chopsticks and tossed them into the sink.
Then, recalling what the note had said, he grabbed himself a set of dishes, returned to the stove, reached out, and lifted the lid.
Once again: “………………”
Inside the dark brown braising broth…Other than tea stems, there were only tea stems.
Nothing but
tea stems.
*****
When Mu Xiangxiang returned upstairs, the Qiao family living room had already filled with a miraculous smell.
Like the fragrance produced by roasting dirty shoe insoles over a heater.
Her footsteps halted. She met Luo Meisheng’s nearly despairing gaze. Even more despairing was the fact that Qiao Yuanshan seemed to notice absolutely nothing wrong and was still happily mixing dipping sauce amid the shoe-insole aroma.
Mu Xiangxiang seriously suspected something was wrong with his sense of taste itself. After all, yesterday when she’d used being sleepy as an excuse to avoid finishing the porridge, Qiao Yuanshan had eaten the remaining half-pot by himself.
And while eating it, his expression had looked perfectly natural. He genuinely hadn’t thought there was any issue with his cooking.
That made the situation hopeless. Unless someone directly told him to his face, Mu Xiangxiang really couldn’t think of any way to point out the problem. But telling him outright…
Looking at her father, who was now happily humming while surrounded by oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, she couldn’t quite bear to say it. Though she was usually blunt and outspoken, she rarely criticized family members.
So after a moment of silence, she chose—just like her older brother Qiao Rui—to avoid Luo Meisheng’s pleading gaze.
Qiao Rui remained as cold and calm as always. When Mu Xiangxiang first entered the house, he had been reading the newspaper; after she changed clothes and came back downstairs, he was still staring at the same page.
Meanwhile, Qiao Yuanshan seemed to have completed his masterpiece. Carrying an exquisite bamboo steamer tray, he emerged cheerfully from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of roasted shoe insoles and his booming voice: “Breakfast is ready!”
Mu Xiangxiang shuddered inwardly. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Qiao Rui, but he merely cast a calm look toward the kitchen, his expression unchanged.
With a clunk, the steamer landed on the table. The lid was whipped open, and the sight before her nearly burned Mu Xiangxiang’s eyes.
The soup dumplings inside had absolutely no visual appeal whatsoever. They lay crooked and collapsed across the cloth lining, while dark brown liquid oozed wildly from their torn skins. It was hard to imagine what state of mind someone had been in while creating such a thing. Even Qiao Yuanshan finally displayed a trace of self-awareness. “It’s my first time making dumplings, pretty hard actually. They don’t look very good.”
Luo Meisheng looked dazed. Mu Xiangxiang herself didn’t know how to respond. In the silence, Qiao Rui’s cool voice suddenly sounded—“No, they look pretty good.”
Mu Xiangxiang: “???”
She turned toward him, only to discover that the expression on Qiao Rui’s face actually looked… somewhat sincere?!
For the first time, Mu Xiangxiang felt a trace of admiration for him. No matter what, being able to maintain such composure in the face of this catastrophic challenge—this level of self-control and calmness alone was enough for her to spend a lifetime learning from.
Sure enough, Qiao Yuanshan was delighted by the praise and immediately began handing out chopsticks. “Eat while they’re hot, eat while they’re hot! The wrapping’s bad, but the taste should be good!”
Without the slightest hesitation, Qiao Rui accepted them. Then, using the mysterious dipping sauce Qiao Yuanshan had prepared, he calmly extended his chopsticks toward the dumplings.
Watching his completely unforced movements, Mu Xiangxiang was utterly convinced. Such mental fortitude. No wonder he could become Qiao Yuanshan’s right-hand man at such a young age. Truly a genius!
And here she had thought she herself was good at enduring hardship, yet she was shrinking back from such a tiny difficulty! Stirred by the thought, Mu Xiangxiang immediately summoned her courage. Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself and copied his example, picking up her chopsticks and reaching out—
The instant Qiao Rui’s chopstick tips touched the dumpling skin, he suddenly stopped.
His phone chimed from his pocket. Smoothly lowering his chopsticks, he pulled it out and glanced at it. Then his brows lifted slightly as he looked at Qiao Yuanshan. “Dad, there’s suddenly an urgent matter at the company. I need to go take a look.”
“Huh? What happened so early in the morning? How come I don’t know about it?” Qiao Yuanshan looked confused, though he didn’t suspect anything. He asked purely out of instinct.
“One of the project teams under me had a pricing problem in a bidding document.” Qiao Rui answered flawlessly, already standing up and putting on his coat as he spoke. Even his usually cold and stern expression changed slightly, his brows carrying traces of anxiety.
I see…
Qiao Yuanshan was frightened by how serious his eldest son appeared and immediately urged him to prioritize work. Yet when his gaze returned to the steamer basket, disappointment still flickered faintly in his eyes.
Right at that moment, Qiao Rui spoke again.
“Where are the plastic bags?” he asked calmly. “I want to take a few dumplings to eat on the way.”
Qiao Yuanshan froze briefly, then instantly smiled. The disappointment on his face vanished without a trace. “I’ll go get one for you!”
Wearing his coat and carrying the plastic bag, Qiao Rui strode out in a hurry. Before leaving, his gaze met his younger brother’s, and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
The front door clicked shut softly. Mu Xiangxiang, who had just been preparing to sacrifice herself and taste the poison: “………………”
She stared at the door, her mind still frozen on the expression Qiao Rui had worn before leaving—the anxious anger supposedly directed at the “bidding document.”
Some belief inside her head began collapsing spectacularly.
Her thoughts raced rapidly. The very next second, when Qiao Yuanshan turned back around, she also put down her chopsticks and revealed a panicked expression.
Luo Meisheng: “……………………”
Careless!
*****
Early morning. City A had not yet awakened from sleep.
Under the cover of night, Father Mu backed his mobility tricycle out from the corridor while awkwardly making conversation with his wife. “The food we left at home should be enough for the kids, right?”
Mother Mu smiled. “Definitely enough. We boiled eight eggs.”
Father Mu let out an “oh” and began loading the things they’d prepared the previous night onto the vehicle. After a moment he asked again: “What about you? Are you hungry?”
Knowing he was nervous, Mother Mu patiently comforted him. “No, no. Let’s hurry up. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late.”
Making breakfast was exhausting work. Everything had to be prepared before customers even woke up. Yet despite working nonstop for two straight days, Father Mu didn’t feel tired at all. His heart was filled only with anticipation for the future and an indescribable nervousness.
His heartbeat pounded so hard it felt ready to leap from his throat. Gazing at the crescent moon still hanging in the sky, he took several deep breaths before slowly climbing onto the vehicle.
Right before the engine started, the clatter of metal briefly rang out. Mother Mu hurried to steady the woven sacks, but apparently they had still disturbed a few neighbors.
A second-floor window opened, and a middle-aged woman in thick pajamas leaned out. Her furrowed brows lifted high when she recognized the people downstairs. “Old Mu? Old Mu’s wife?”
Father Mu turned around. Seeing who it was, he gave a simple, honest smile. “Sister-in-law.”
“So early in the morning, why aren’t you two sleeping? Banging around outside making all that noise—you’re driving people crazy.”
“A-Si and I are going out to do a bit of business.” Father Mu was already used to her almost rude way of speaking, and his response remained gentle. “Sorry for disturbing you all. We’ll be more careful next time.”
With that, he flicked his wrist and started the vehicle, carrying Mother Mu away with a wobbling sway.
Yet after receiving his answer, the woman on the second floor remained frozen at the window. A moment later, an impatient shout came from the bed behind her: “It’s freezing out there. Are you sick? Why are you sitting by the open window?”
“Hey, guess who I just saw? Your younger brother carrying his wife around outside. He says they’re going into business!” The middle-aged woman shut the window and climbed excitedly back into bed, wearing a mocking expression as though anticipating a good show. “Has your brother lost his mind, too? Him? Doing business? He’s disabled—what the hell can he even do out there?”
She kept shoving her husband beneath the blankets, clearly eager to share the joke with him.
But her husband merely grunted twice and ignored her completely, soon resuming his snoring.
The disabled vehicle wasn’t very high-performance. It made soft puttering noises while driving, especially noticeable in the sparsely populated dawn streets.
Father Mu could barely remember how long it had been since he’d traveled this far from home. Because of his physical condition, his world had long been confined to the area surrounding the urban village. Sunrise to sunset—his entire life fit within that tiny space.
So only now did he suddenly realize how drastically City A had changed.
The roads had widened. Concrete streets had become asphalt. What used to be XX Factory had been renovated into office buildings. The once-empty parking lot had transformed into a massive shopping mall.
A feeling of having crossed into another lifetime enveloped him. It seemed as though this world was no longer the one he once knew.
Sitting behind him with her arms around his waist, Mother Mu watched her husband constantly looking around and felt both sweetness and sorrow rise in her heart.
How many years had it been? She had watched him grow quieter day by day, more hunched day by day, imprisoning himself within a space no larger than a cell. The once spirited and ambitious young man had slowly become a middle-aged man whose every smile carried traces of restraint and timidity.
She pretended not to notice these changes and never spoke of them aloud, unwilling to add to her husband’s burden. But deep in her heart, she felt a sharp, unmistakable sense of injustice on his behalf.
And now, like faint light finally piercing through heavy curtains, she could at last taste the long-lost vitality gradually rekindling in her husband’s brightening eyes.
Youth Plaza counted as one of the landmarks in the southern part of City A. Around it clustered numerous schools and shopping districts, with an extremely heavy daily flow of people. A few years earlier, after the city government cracked down on illegal street vending, the area had established a number of official fixed vendor stalls instead. The spots were rental-only, and after years of operation, the place had become fairly well-known. Students from nearby schools and white-collar workers from surrounding offices usually stopped here for breakfast in the mornings.
The stalls here were difficult to rent and far from cheap. Even now, just thinking about the amount made Father Mu suck in a breath. But after learning during yesterday’s negotiations just how sought-after empty stalls here were, he and his wife had decisively spent the money anyway.
It was hard to explain why. That decisiveness seemed buried deep in their bones, something even poverty couldn’t erase.
Still, it was a huge expense. Yesterday it hadn’t felt like much, but now Father Mu couldn’t avoid feeling nervous.
Most of the vendors in the plaza had already arrived. People nearby were openly sizing them up with curious looks, making Father Mu’s already awkward gait grow even more stiff.
Many quickly understood and exchanged glances—He was disabled.
Soon people stopped paying attention to them. Those willing to wake before dawn and work long hours here were all diligent folk chasing a living. A disabled man trying to support himself through honest work was worthy of respect. It was just that the equipment they’d brought was a bit strange. That enormous steaming cabinet was something nobody had seen before.
Father Mu hoisted the steaming cabinet onto the stall and couldn’t help speaking to his wife again. “Do you think our food will actually sell?”
Mother Mu had already efficiently washed her hands and begun stirring rice batter. As always, she showed endless patience toward her husband. “Don’t worry. You’re so talented. Our business will definitely do well.”
But Father Mu remained uneasy. Counting yesterday’s expenses and today’s stall fee, their startup costs had already approached two thousand yuan—nearly half the family’s savings. If business went badly today, everything would go down the drain. The long-forgotten pressure of making a living weighed heavily on his heart, unexpectedly bringing back the mindset he’d once had years ago while supporting a family.
Supporting a family… That was the kind of responsibility only the head of a household could bear.
A dazed look passed through Father Mu’s eyes. He no longer remembered how long it had been since he’d associated himself with those words.
Suddenly filled with strength, Father Mu let out a hearty “heave-ho!” and firmly fitted the steaming cabinet into place atop the stove.
Then he briskly cleaned the steaming trays and began waiting for customers.
******
Seven o’clock—the official start of the workday. The major roads of City A gradually became congested.
Young office workers hurried out of buses, trains, and cars. A young white-collar woman in a business suit pulled her coat tighter against the cold wind and shivered in the morning light. At the intersection, she paused before turning toward Youth Plaza as usual.
Among office workers in the business district, it was widely acknowledged as the morning cafeteria.
The moment she stepped into the area, all kinds of food aromas greeted her. Growing hungrier by the second, her gaze drifted across the various stalls.
The fried pancake place tasted decent enough, but she’d been breaking out lately, so oily food was off-limits. The rice noodle soup stall was certainly light, but the flavor was mediocre.
After nearly a year of eating here, she’d tried almost every stall. Since she had picky tastes, she rarely found anything truly satisfying, so choosing breakfast always felt like a struggle.
Suddenly, her eyes paused, catching sight of something new.
One of the stalls that used to sell crepes had apparently changed owners today. A huge steaming cabinet was billowing steam dramatically into the air.
She’d known it—the crepe stall had been so ordinary that it probably couldn’t last long.
Thinking this, her gaze accidentally swept past the stall toward the dining area behind it, which was already almost completely full.
Steamed food, huh? Probably pretty light?
Making up her mind, she walked over and took a look. The two stall owners were already bustling with activity. The female owner was spreading meat sauce into a tray with a spoon. She glanced up briefly, and a warm, welcoming smile immediately appeared on her face. “Hello there! What would you like?”
The young woman glanced to the side. There was a handwritten sign on the stall. The handwriting wasn’t pretty, but it was very clear—
[Rice noodle rolls — plain 3 yuan; Add vegetables 2 yuan; Add meat 5 yuan; Add egg 3 yuan]
She hesitated briefly. “One with meat and egg.”
Right away the female vendor answered with a crisp, energetic “Coming right up!” Then she deftly slid out a large steaming tray. In her other hand was a tool that looked almost like something used to spread plaster on walls. She swept the sharp corner across the tray—
The translucent rice noodle sheet instantly split in two, folded over itself, and was neatly scooped onto a clean plate.
The woman handed it over, and the male owner smoothly took over in perfect coordination. Raising his arm, he ladled a spoonful of sauce from a nearby stainless-steel basin and poured it over the dish.
Even after paying and receiving the plate, the young office worker still hadn’t fully processed things. That was it?
Wasn’t it way too simple?
She couldn’t help regretting her impulsive decision to try something new today. The plain-looking dish didn’t seem especially promising. Feeling a bit annoyed, she found an empty seat, split apart her disposable chopsticks, mixed the pale rice noodle rolls with the brown sauce, lowered her head, and opened her mouth, intending to casually fill her stomach before heading back to work.
The texture of the rice noodle rolls sliding into her mouth made her pause in surprise.
The next second, the rich, savory intensity of the brown sauce crashed mercilessly across her taste buds.
Author’s Note:
However, none of this had anything to do with Mu Song.
Today, little brother Mu still went to school hungry.
And today, Luo Meisheng was still the only one left behind to eat the dumplings.
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