At this time, the young boy who had run out earlier came back again, holding a lamb leg bone in his left hand and a rather exquisite dagger in his right hand, gesturing.
Liu Mengyan softly said: "He said that you cannot just let the guest eat porridge, there is the best and most tender roasted meat for you to eat here."
The young boy smiled at him, revealing a row of teeth as he smiled.
This time, Wang Anfeng did not refuse, passing the pottery bowl full of porridge he held over. The boy did not take it, his expression solemn, holding the roasted lamb leg in one hand while using his thumb to press the dagger out of its sheath with the other, the silvery blade glinting as he sliced thin pieces of meat.
It was the most aromatic roasted layer, sprinkled with fennel seeds and coarse salt, which fell into the porridge and spread out beautifully like a flower, with the oil seeping through in a thin and attractive sheen.
