Manbao let out a sigh of relief, then stepped onto a large clod of earth and loudly instructed everyone to line up.
In these past few days, everyone had grown accustomed to lining up to get their bread, so they subconsciously stood in line, bowls in hand, moving forward to get their soup.
Not everyone's bowl was destined to contain a piece of meat, as Zhou Wulang had said, it was all down to luck.
Chopped green onions had been added to the soup, and Zhou Wulang had also put in quite a bit of salt—it was genuinely delicious. After taking a sip, everyone, despite feeling a bit regretful for not getting a slice of meat, didn't complain.
After all, it was only two wen.
When Zhou Sanlang finally arrived fashionably late, Manbao hopped over, guided him to the side of the donkey cart, and handed him one of Ms. Qian's pancakes from this morning, saying, "Third Brother, eat this, eat this."
