By the time the news conference at the airport had ended and everyone had returned to the rescue center, the sky had already turned mostly dark.
Old Bull was bustling around the rescue center's restaurant in a brand-new white apron and a tall hat on his head.
The restaurant was about 150 square meters, and one wall had been cleared out, with a row of tables against the wall laden with stainless steel trays, one after another, filled with Old Bull's carefully prepared food.
But most of the food already on the tables was the kind that could keep well...
Fried bananas, strawberry crisps, apple crisps...
Fried meatballs, fried twisted dough, fried spring rolls, fried dough cakes...
Fried steaks, fried chicken legs, fried shrimp tails...
There were also all kinds of fruit pieces and vegetable strips sorted into different stainless steel trays, waiting for guests to combine and take them as they pleased.
