It was too early to call, which would be very strange, so Yang Xiao decided to fill his belly first. He was exhausted last night, and now his stomach was growling.
The five of them found a breakfast stall nearby, the open-air kind, run by a middle-aged couple.
The man wore a vest covered in oil stains, busy at the stove, while the woman was responsible for cleaning dishes, taking orders, and collecting payments. The scene was very lively.
Yang Xiao gobbled down two baskets of soup dumplings, smacked his lips after finishing, and complained, "Why don't these dumplings taste as good as the ones I usually have?"
"Probably because they didn't use gutter oil inside, you're not used to it," Jiang Qingluan said seriously.
"Tsk, what kind of comment is that?" Yang Xiao tapped his bowl with his chopsticks, showing dissatisfaction.
