Zhang Yiwen said, "Dad, try to get some good pots and knives. We can set up our own little kitchen."
The person cooking changed every day, and with the same ingredients, the food ended up like pig slop.
Zhang Yiwen had been wanting to get his hands on a good pot for a long time.
He had even tried to carve a stone pot himself, but it was too heavy and not very practical.
It was also a pain to wash.
Zhang Aihua couldn't guarantee he could get a good pot and knife. He stroked his son's cheeks, which had gotten a little chubbier recently, and said, "Dad will do his best."
"Okay, then. Stay safe, and slack off when you can." After a thought, he added, "If they provide meals, remember to bring some back for Mom so we can eat together."
Zhang Yiwen still remembered the fruits and vegetables Jiang Si's group had brought last time. He'd only gotten a single bite before they were all gone.
He stared at the sprouting mung beans every day, practically dying from craving.
