Tofu Lady Record

I, an ordinary 996 social worker, my greatest happiness is getting into the kitchen on weekends and making food. One second he was feeling complacent about baking a perfect egg tart, and the next second he fell into a waist-deep grass. The biting cold wind was like a knife, scraping at my thin clothes. The burning pain in my stomach was even harder to swallow than the cakes drawn by my boss. Until the rickety figure pushed aside the withered grass, and my embarrassment was reflected in the cloudy eyes. She stuffed me with half a tooth-shattering cake and dragged me back to a small courtyard filled with the smell of bean. Looking at Aunt Wang's pot of soy milk, which was so bland that people could be seen, I rolled up my sleeves. "Mom, do you want to try... Something that smells bad and tastes delicious?"