"Are you done?"
"Almost, almost."
When Bailuo returned, his uncle had already finished bathing with Chubby Simpleton, and the two were squatting in a corner of the courtyard, roasting something with dry branches they had found somewhere.
"Are you done?"
"Don't rush us!"
"What are you doing here?"
"Roasting chicken."
"Uh."
Bailuo was a bit dumbfounded and somewhat speechless, "Why didn't you let them cook in the kitchen, and then serve it to you once it was ready?"
Bailuo's status had also risen, and it was no longer possible for him to do as before. As the king of Yatun, even if he wanted to cook, the children would not agree.
The King of Yatun had to live in the best place, eat the best food; that was the basic requirement.
If they couldn't provide that, it would make them appear incompetent.
"The kitchen's cooking can't compare to the fragrance of Saros's cooking."
"Uncle is personally cooking, and this is what he makes, chicken like this?"
