An Jing and Xiao Changyi did not return at noon, so they ate the buns they had steamed that morning, along with a bowl of bamboo shoots.
They had dried lots of bamboo shoots and black fungus for storage, so they weren't at all worried about running out of vegetables. It was just that eating bamboo shoots and black fungus every day was starting to become nauseating. Now An Jing would only eat a little and give the rest to Xiao Changyi.
"Husband, don't you get tired of it?" An Jing watched Xiao Changyi finishing off the large half bowl of bamboo shoots left and asked curiously.
Xiao Changyi didn't say whether he was tired of it or not; he just said lightly, "Think about the food I used to make."
When An Jing thought of Xiao Changyi's cooking, which either lacked oil and salt or tasted terrible even with them, she could not help but let out a chuckle, "No wonder you don't get tired of eating."
