At half past five in the morning, before the light of day broke free from the horizon of Jinling City, the kitchen of the Lin family villa was already lit up by dazzling incandescent lights.
"Zila——"
The eggs slide into the hot oil pan, and the protein quickly solidifies under the high temperature, making a pleasant sound, and the rich aroma spreads instantly. Shen Mo holds the spatula with a focused expression, and turns her wrist steadily to ensure that the edges of the fried eggs are slightly burnt golden, while the yolks must remain in a perfect flow state.
This is the thousand and ninety-fifth day since he entered the Lin family.
For three years, he started every morning like this.
The kitchen floor is made of cold white tiles, and even if you wear slippers, the chill will creep up. The air is mixed with the aroma of ingredients and the pungent smell of disinfectant. This is Liu Yueqin's "masterpiece". She always said that Shen Shen has a "sour bottom smell" that must be covered with the strongest disinfectant.
I'm used to silence. He is like a breathing piece of furniture in this home, a cooking machine that needs no emotion. His patience stemmed from a bowl of hot porridge that Lin Wanyin's mother handed over to him three years ago in front of his sick bed. That bowl of porridge saved his life from starving to death, and also trapped him in his freedom for three years.
