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"Zhiwen, you're too long-winded!" Mo Weiqin stabbed his chopsticks into his lunchbox, spearing a glutinous rice ball with black sesame from one of the compartments.
Devouring this delicious and fragrant midday meal, Mo Weiqin was thoroughly reassured.
Nearly half of the students at the private school were from ordinary households, and such unique and well-prepared meals with both meat and rice were definitely not cheap. Only students like Xiao Bin and Qiao Qichun, who came from better circumstances, could afford them, hence Brother Fu and Sister-in-law Fu hadn't deceived him, they really couldn't compete with his parents' business.
"Exactly." Xiao Bin glanced at him with disdain and, with a successful flick of his chopsticks, snatched a five-spiced fried chicken piece that had been shaped into a pentagon from his lunchbox.
