Standing in the long queue, Feng Wanba had already licked his lips for the sixth time, the aroma of the food wafting from the soup kitchen making him swallow uncontrollably.
Seeing that the line in front of him had not decreased at all for a long time, Feng Wanba finally experienced what it meant for a day to feel like a year.
But he didn't dare to cut in line, fearing that the master monks would get angry and send him home, rather than giving him any food.
After a long wait, it was finally Feng Wanba's turn. The porridge wasn't much, just one ladle.
As soon as the ladle of millet porridge was scooped into the bowl, he couldn't wait and used his hand to scoop it up, paying no heed to the heat.
The millet porridge was thin and had a few wood shavings and minced meat added to it.
