"Let me roll the spring rolls, you fry them." Song Huan stood up, swapping tasks with her daughter.
"Okay." Mu Jiayi stood up with unwillingness. She hated sitting in front of the mud stove, as smoke and heat were infamous for tanning skin. Why wasn't Tang Yu coming yet? 'Does it take three minutes to freshen up after a short nap?'
"Observe how I do it." Song Huan articulated each word, glaring at Mu Jiayi. She lined a wooden slab with a square, thin, wheat-based dough sheet. Then, she put a small amount of stuffing on the sheet, near a corner, before tucking the filling in with the tiny triangle left at the bottom.
"Here, in this step, you always make the mistake. Look carefully at how I do it." Song Huan kept rolling the sheet padded with a line of filling forward until it reached the middle of the wrapper.
