Qiao Anhao was hungry, but she couldn't work up an appetite. Her actions were slow and draggy.
Zhao Meng carried a plate over, the contents almost spilling over. She sat down and placed a white bowl in front of Qiao Anhao. "Qiao Qiao, they just made Dong Po meat so I got you a bowl."
"Thank you," Qiao Anhao replied. She opened the cap and the thick meaty aroma flew out. The smell didn't whip up her appetite but instead sent her stomach churning.
The Dong Po meat in this hotel was made by a Hang Zhou chef , the taste was superior, and it was considered their specialty. Qiao Anhao had always been a fan, but somehow, when she placed the lean meat into her mouth, it tasted weird, making her feel uncomfortable. She spat the meat out and reached for her own plain vegetables.
"What's wrong?" Zhao Meng asked, inaudibly with a full mouth.
