Before long, the aroma of beef began to fill the narrow living room.
Once the stew pot came to a boil, bubbling away, Feng Mountain added the noodles. He stirred them gently with chopsticks, watching them tumble in the pot.
A few minutes later, a pot of simple beef noodles was ready.
Feng Mountain ladled a bowl full of noodles and broth, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and handed them to Natasha, his tone deliberately teasing.
"Her Majesty the Queen, I forgot to tell you, we only have chopsticks here, no forks."
Natasha shot the petty man a look, took the bowl and chopsticks, and said flatly, "I studied abroad in China. I know how to use chopsticks."
With that, she skillfully picked up the chopsticks, gracefully lifted some noodles, and brought them to her mouth.
Her movements were fluid and natural, showing no awkwardness at all with the chopsticks.
'So what if she studied abroad?'
'She's still eating food made by a junior high school student.'
