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The kitchen just happened to have two stoves, very closely placed—it was the kind of close where an exaggerated flip of the spatula could easily bump into the person next to you.
The rice was harder than leftover rice from the night before, and the pickles were a mysterious kind, enthusiastically recommended by Ji Yue but whose taste remained unknown to everyone. Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang stood at an impasse in the kitchen, one wearing a blue apron, the other in green, one 1.7 meters tall, the other 1.9 meters.
Jiang Feng could only be relieved that Ji Xue and Ji Yue didn't like pink, or else the two of them facing each other in pink aprons in the kitchen would have been a bit too much for him to handle.
The battle in the kitchen was about to erupt, while the war outside the kitchen had already begun.
"My Zhang Guanghang makes fried rice that is truly exceptional. His French wild mushroom fried rice gets a lot of positive reviews," Ji Yue said, with a slight smile.
