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The shop was small, the door open, inside a warm yellow light shone, slightly dim. On the right side of the entrance was a small kitchen where all the food was prepared, and on the left, a narrow path led to several tables and chairs for guests to sit and eat their noodles.
At this moment, someone was busy in the kitchen.
A middle-aged man, just over forty with a crew cut, tall and burly, with a stubbled beard, unkempt.
But this man was carefully making dumplings.
"Uncle Chen."
Mo Shangjun walked into the light, stood outside the entrance, and slightly narrowed her eyes, a smile hidden in their depths.
At the sound, Chen Lu's fingers pressed down a tad too hard, almost poking through the dumpling he was making.
Looking up, he caught sight of Mo Shangjun standing outside.
