At that moment in time, Lone Wolf had already placed his front paws on the kitchen top, drooling.
"Fangzheng, you came just in time. We began making bean paste today. You can have some in a bit," said Du Mei with a smile.
Fangzheng was still vexing over what to eat during winter. As an authentic northeasterner, not having bean paste to him was like not having spicy food to people from Hunan or Sichuan. Days without it were completely unimaginable. And Fangzheng had already spent almost a year living such days! Ever since Zen Master One Finger passed away, there was no more bean paste left on the mountain. Fangzheng couldn't bring himself to go down the mountain to request it from the villagers. Therefore, he had waited an entire year. Now that there was finally some, Fangzheng didn't stand on ceremony as he kept nodding and saying, "Okay."
