He is a cook. A taciturn cook in the back kitchen of the inn. His job is to cut meat and vegetables. There is always an endless supply of meat and vegetables in the kitchen, just like there is always an incomprehensible sadness in his heart. His knife skills are very good. Anyone who has seen him use a knife will say that his knife skills are very good.
His knife was originally a pig-killing knife, and there were already many gaps on the blade, just like his life.
His life was inherently incomplete. But these hands are terrifyingly perfect. Wide, rough, with well-defined joints, every movement is as stable as a rock.
So his name is Xiao Can.
He has no friends. The only companions are this knife and the pot of wine on the table.
