Bu Fang opened his eyes. All of a sudden, he sat up from his original position. He rubbed his drowsy-eyes and yawned.
After washing his face and rinsing his mouth, Bu Fang walked out of his room. The guest room was as usual, shut tightly.
Going downstairs, Bu Fang arrived in the kitchen. It looked the same as usual, without a single speck of dust. It was clean to the point of making one feel extremely comfortable just by looking at it. Bu Fang patted on Whitey's plump tummy and curled the corners of his mouth. His mood was entirely free from worry.
Bu Fang picked up the uniquely heavy kitchen knife and started his daily practice of knife work and carving skills. That heavy kitchen knife looked very light-weighted when in his hands, making it look rather inconceivable.
