At this moment, he had one foot up on the chair beside him, his knee crossing the table, revealing a small section, sitting in a bold and unrestrained manner. His jacket zipper was open, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing firm, cold muscle lines, and his right hand casually held a pair of exquisitely crafted wooden chopsticks.
On the table in front of him were dishes with exquisite presentation, looking indistinct from afar, but certainly not the kind of dishes that should be in such a small shop.
The scene was so out of place, it was absurd.
This young man, suave and charming, just one glance could make a person feel a strong sense of goodwill. Yet, his actions were hard to accept—
"Is this fit for human consumption?"
"Arranged like this, who would want to pick it up with chopsticks?"
"Are you taste-blind or have Parkinson's that you can't even season simple ingredients properly?"
"Not up to standard in appearance, get lost."
...
