"Carol."
"Your dishes are ready."
Uncle Lowell carried several plates of dishes carefully in his hands and placed them on the table.
Four dishes and a soup, each one extremely delicate and beautiful, with a rich aroma that almost made people drool.
Drunken shrimp, white-cut chicken, four happiness meatballs, Dongpo pork, and an old duck soup.
The smell was so strong that other customers at the nearby tables noticed it too.
Even though their own dishes weren't bad, they felt that the quality of this table's dishes seemed on another level entirely.
Milo Wallace felt hungry at the smell, trying hard to resist the urge to pick up chopsticks and start eating.
He looked at Mark Lowell, pointing at the calligraphy hanging on the wall, and humbly asked, "Boss, who wrote these characters?"
Mark casually glanced at the painting on the wall and struggled to remember for a while before finally recalling.
