When it was time to eat, the back gate of the University of South China was in an incredibly lively situation.
At the entrance to a restaurant were a group of people who were waiting for mooth, and they held their food containers while they lined up and waited.
At the same time, they also urged the shopkeeper to hurry up and pack their lunches.
"Boss, hurry up. If you're so slow, once you're finally done packing up our lunches, a lot of people will have died!"
"If you die, then so be it. When you're reborn, eighteen years later, you'll still end up a good man."
The shopkeeper knew long ago that this group of youngsters whom he was familiar with will go back to play games once they finished eating.
He moved quickly, and he brandished his spatula like a Shooting Star Spade.
"This is yours.
"Here, these are yours."
