The smoke in the air carried the thick scent of spices from the pot.
Qiao Nian spoke to the middle-aged woman for a while and then got him to find a table.
This was the peak hour as it was the end of the day for school students and working adults. The 30 tables filled up very quickly.
Fortunately, they managed to get a table in the corner.
Ye Wangchuan saw her place her cell phone on the table as a form of reservation before turning to ask him, "Do you want chili in your mala soup base?"
Ye Wangchuan stood out in the crowd because of his height and demeanor. He eyed the bowl the young man beside him was eating out of.
There was a layer of chili oil in the white bowl.
His throat felt scratchy before even eating anything.
"… Add less of that."
Qiao Nian seemed rather excited about this and gestured back at him. "OK. How about blood curds?"
