Zhang Guanghang did the same as the day before, returning to his room to sleep and then waking up to do homework. The only difference was that this time he spent considerably less time doing it, taking just over half an hour before slipping back to the kitchen.
Xia Mushi had figured it out; he had set up a sort of campfire rack on the flat ground outside the kitchen, where he was baking flatbread as if roasting meat.
The real deal—baking flatbread.
The campfire setup was large, but the fire was tiny, with just a small cluster of weak flames flickering in the wind, looking pathetically frail and helpless. From the charred remains of what was obviously withdrawn firewood scattered about, Jiang Feng could tell that the small fire was deliberately controlled by Xia Mushi.
Xia Mushi sat on a low stool, leaning forward with hands gripping the thick dough of a large flatbread, eyes fixed intently on it as he slowly moved it over the feeble flames to bake.
