Still holding the map, she decided to discuss it with Lang Yan one by one.
"I'm here."
Lang Yan hurried back with two breakfast sets.
Mo Shangjun's breakfast: porridge, egg, steamed bun.
His breakfast: steamed bun, egg, deep-fried dough sticks.
Walking to Mo Shangjun's desk, he placed her breakfast on the empty spot.
"Do you want me to feed you?" he asked, withdrawing his hand.
"No need."
As she answered, Mo Shangjun's gaze was fixed on the deep-fried dough sticks in his hand.
Noticing her stare, Lang Yan coughed lightly, "You're injured, deep-fried dough sticks... not suitable."
"Oh."
Mo Shangjun remained expressionless, but her gaze swept subtly over the dough sticks in his hand.
Golden and crispy, they looked crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.
Not far away, the scent of the dough sticks wafted over.
The head of the mess hall was best at frying dough sticks, and every breakfast time, they were always snatched up quickly.
