"Jingjing, do you want some?" Qu the Hunter asked.
Qu Jing looked at the pastries. She's not foolish; in recent days, being able to have enough sweet potatoes and corn was enough to make the village children envious. The legendary white steamed buns only appeared in the village gossip about the landlord's son who ate himself to death.
The pastries in front of her, except for the poorly presented black steamed bun, looked far more exquisite than white steamed buns. Qu Jing decisively shook her head.
"I don't want any."
Qu the Hunter knew she wanted some.
The shop was empty, but it was clear there was a partition inside. Qu the Hunter gritted his teeth and shouted loudly, "Anyone here?"
"Yes." A young man in a long gown emerged from the partition inside.
