Lin Yi didn't care about her muttered complaints. He had been at the Lin family's home for two days, and although the meals Lin Yuan prepared were nothing special—just simple noodles and steamed buns—they tasted like delicacies from heaven to him.
In the military camp, Lin Yi used to eat the communal meals from the kitchen, which were barely passable as long as they were cooked. When they were out on missions, the conditions were even harsher, either chewing on cold rations or hunting for game.
Speaking of hunting for game, it made Lin Yi nauseous. Chickens plucked and gutted, not necessarily thoroughly washed, were all too common. They couldn't hope for the luxury of roasting with oil and spices or stewing; even a bit of salt was considered good.
He had eaten meat that was bland from grilling, or half-raw, or burnt to a crisp, and that feeling—tch, it was unforgettable for a lifetime.
