The Su family's old house, the kitchen.
The oil smoke was wrapped in steam and was rising upwards. More than a dozen pots on the stove were on fire at the same time. Lin Yuan was spinning like a top in this chaos. Cutting vegetables, shaking spoons, and arranging dishes, these tasks have long been engraved into muscle memory after three years.
Today is Mrs. Su's eightieth birthday. There are dozens of tables. The Su family has hired two chefs, but the most tiring work belongs to him.
The two chefs seemed to have a tacit understanding. One was smoking in the corner, and the other was scrolling through his mobile phone. From time to time, he raised his head and glanced at Lin Yuan's busy back. It was hard to tell whether the look in his eyes was sympathy or watching the fun.
