It was snowing again in the capital. Despite it nearing the end of the year, the snowstorm did not let up at all.
The streets were a little deserted. After all, it was snowing so heavily, many peddlers did not even bother to set up their stalls.
Su Wen sat in the carriage and sighed. "Brother Jin, the fried vermicelli stall isn't open for business today."
Zhao Jin smiled and said, "If Young Master wants to eat stir-fried noodles, you can ask the chef at home to make it."
Su Wen looked at the flying snow outside the window and slowly said, "Am I here because I wish to eat noodles? What I want is to consume youth itself! How can it have any hint of youth if it's made by a chef at home?"
(TL Note: In China, many of the youths spend their time after classes hanging out and having meals with their friends in such roadside stalls. Well, at least before covid….)
