The volume of supplies this time was so large that Jiang Yun couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. She knew that business at Wu-ger’s breakfast shop was booming, but this time they had purchased far too much.

Back in the old days, even during the busiest winter months, they’d only need half a sheep at most.

Now, Wu-ger needed three sacks of flour, one sack of white rice, and one sack of yellow rice—all large sacks—plus sugar, spices, salt, and a huge jar of oil. Not to mention those items, which at least keep well, but with the hot weather, they also needed this much pork. Jiang Yun listened with a pounding heart.

Seeing his mother’s worry, Tang Xianling explained, “The thirty jin of pork tenderloin each day is for making pork floss. That stuff keeps well; we won’t run out for at least five days.”

Even if there’s some left over, it probably won’t be much—we can just use it to make porridge for the family.

Since his family used a lot of pork, Tang Xianling brought up the price with Mr. Zhu and proactively suggested, “Let’s just go by the market price.” Mr. Zhu was initially pleased, but then he remembered the promise he’d made earlier. Since business with the Tang family was a long-term arrangement, he immediately replied, “No, I previously agreed to charge you three wen per pound for the pork tenderloin.”

This was Mr. Zhu’s sincerity in business—he wanted to maintain a long-term relationship with the Tang family. Tang Xianling understood this; the reason he had just offered to stick to the original price was simply to avoid trouble.

Now that his business was thriving and he was making money, he needed a lot of pork. He was worried that Mr. Zhu might feel uncomfortable about it in the long run. After all, when he first bought the pork tenderloin, it was hot out and a lot of it had gone to waste, so various factors had led to a “last-minute discount” deal.

Now that they were in a long-term business relationship, sourcing from Boss Zhu was the most convenient option—it worked well for both parties and was the easiest arrangement. He realized they needed large quantities now, but going to the “major meat wholesalers” for supply would only cause trouble and wouldn’t save much money; in fact, it might end up being more expensive and a hassle.

It was just like that coal shop—even though he and Tieniu bought a hundred jin this time, they still wouldn’t deliver it.

They run a food stall, not a butcher shop. The big meat suppliers sell whole animals; they don’t care whether you can sell the pork or the offal—you can’t pick and choose; you take whatever they give you.

Even modern small restaurants don’t make sense of sourcing directly from major suppliers.

Besides, they’re all on the same street, neighbors in the same district. Living and doing business here involves more than just profit—there are social graces and the give-and-take of daily life. It’s not about banding together to exclude anyone—everyone’s too busy making a living for that—but maintaining good relations certainly makes life easier.

His mother actually quite enjoyed chatting with Zhou Xiangping.

Tang Xianling hinted at this, and Zhu Si caught on immediately. He carefully weighed his words in his mind; this time, he didn’t speak too hastily. If they could get along well, the Tang family would become a long-term, stable source of business for the Zhu family.

After a thorough discussion, they finally settled on the following price: the price for pork tenderloin would remain unchanged. Boss Zhu said he had agreed to this earlier; in business, one must keep one’s word.

Tang Xianling then said, “Then the spare ribs will be priced at market rate.”

They barely made any profit on the pork tenderloin, but the spare ribs, pork shoulder, and pork belly were profitable.

With the deal settled, both parties were pleased and in high spirits. Zhou Xiangping urged her friend not to rush and to stay and chat a while longer, and Jiang Yun also wanted to linger and talk. Seeing this, Tang Xianling said, “Well then, I’ll head home first. I still have to set up the stove at home.”

“Alright, go ahead,” said Jiang Yun.

After Wu-ger left.

Zhou Xiangping asked curiously, “Why build another stove?”

“Wu-ger wants to expand into evening meals. With two ovens in the shop for grilled food, the kitchen at home is already quite spacious—it’s just a single large stove plus a small stove, which isn’t enough. Wu-ger asked Tieniu to find someone to build another one…” Jiang Yun spoke in great detail.

If Tang Xianling were here, he’d have wrapped it up in a single sentence, but that would have deprived him of the pleasure of “stammering” and “chatting idly.” When women and men chat, they discuss the trivialities of daily life; the conversation needs to be more detailed to really get going.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Xiangping said, “That really is something we should do. The stove we had at home before wasn’t any good—it was a bit too small, and cooking at home was a hassle. The craftsman who built your family’s stove has excellent skills. Introduce him to me later, and I’ll have mine repaired too.”

“Sure thing. Once it’s finished, I’ll call you over to take a look.” Jiang Yun replied, then added, “Wu-ger also wants to roast some qizi dou.”

“Why roast those now? February is long past.” Zhou Xiangping asked curiously.

According to Fengyuan City custom, on the second day of the second lunar month—when the dragon raises its head—people eat roasted beans and qizi dou. This isn’t difficult; every household’s men and women know how to make them.

“Earlier, Third Sister was taking the kids back home, and Xiangxiang kept telling her Uncle that his cooking smelled delicious. Wu-ger loves the kids, so he roasted some for them. Since they’re dry, they’ll keep even in the heat…”

So the conversation turned back to Tang Nuan and Zhao Xiangxiang. Zhou Xiangping talked a bit about her own daughter, and before long, they were chatting away on one topic after another; the more they talked, the more enthusiastic they became.

Zhu Si was quite content minding the stall. There weren’t many people buying meat at the moment; it was nearly closing time. With Boss Tang as a major customer from now on, his family wouldn’t have to cut back on their summer pork supply. He still needed to do some calculations: on days when Boss Tang ordered a lot, if he ran short of tenderloin, he’d just have to negotiate with the butchers from other neighborhoods. After all, with the hot weather, some shops only needed half a side, or a little more than half, so they could even things out—it was no big deal.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

At the Tang family courtyard.

The stove master was bustling in and out of the kitchen, while Huangfu Tieniu helped out on the side. Tang Xianling sat in the courtyard, keeping his accounts. Ordinary folk had to live frugally, especially those in business—he’d certainly been a bit too loose-fisted…

Take the Lu family, for instance: with steamed buns selling at such low prices, the money they earned was scraped together bit by bit, like picking it out from between their fingers, saving up little by little.

Tang Xianling paused to reflect for a few seconds.

“What’s wrong?” Tieniu asked, watching his husband frown as he held the pen.

Tang Xianling: “I feel like I’ve been spending too freely.”

“No, those were all necessary purchases. You’ve made a fortune, and your mother and I have been spending it too,” Huangfu Tieniu said.

Tang Xianling glared at Tieniu. “You’re just trying to sweet-talk me!”

With strangers in the house in broad daylight, and his husband acting all coy with him, Huangfu Tieniu couldn’t do much. He sat to one side, took a proper look at the ledger—he couldn’t make heads or tails of what Xianling had written—and said, “It’s not much.”

“Can you even read it?” Tang Xianling muttered. His hastily scrawled characters and numbers were a jumble on the rough paper; he’d have to neatly record the entries later.

Huangfu Tieniu shook his head and said, “I may not understand it, but I went along with you when you went shopping. You bought things needed for the business, not just for yourself. Even if you spent it on yourself, the money is yours—as long as it makes you happy.”

“If we run out of money later, I’ll go hunting in the mountains. I’ll save up and give it all to you.”

Tang Xianling knew Tieniu was telling the absolute truth. He shook his head. “I don’t want us to be apart for too long.” They’d just started dating and had just consummated their marriage—he didn’t want a long-distance relationship!

Huangfu Tieniu felt a mix of excitement and sweetness in his heart. “Alright, I’ll do whatever you say.”

The kitchen master called for help. Huangfu Tieniu went to assist, while Tang Xianling continued keeping the ledger: rice, flour, oil, charcoal, red beans, sugar, meat, soy sauce, paper…

“One point five plus one point four plus one point one…” The unit was silver.

“Two hundred and four plus five hundred equals four hundred…” The unit was wen.

Not only did Huangfu Tieniu not understand it, but even if the best shopkeeper in Fengyuan City had come, seeing Boss Tang’s ledger would have been a complete mess. But as long as Boss Tang could make sense of his own rough drafts, that was all that mattered.

When Tang Xianling kept his accounts, he listed a week’s worth of inventory together. He listed daily expenses together. As for the dried plum vegetables—since they were for the second half of the year but cost less than a fraction of the price of charcoal—he lumped them in with the daily expenses.

Adding it all up, here and there, it came to a little over nine taels.

Then there were the dishes, jars, stove tops, and baking trays custom-ordered during this period, plus a large iron pot for the stove—these hardware items alone cost eight taels of silver, mainly because the iron pot and baking trays were expensive. However, these items won’t need to be replenished later; they’ll be replaced only when worn out or broken.

So when running a business, one can’t just calculate the cost of ingredients; one must also factor in labor, consumables, and equipment.

……Let’s sell for a week first to see if there’s any leftover stock of the main items, then adjust the inventory for the second week.

That day, they bought dinner as usual, because the stove had just been assembled and needed to air out; it would be ready for use tomorrow. The master said not to use high heat at first—it’s best to simmer some porridge or congee over low heat to break it in.

It was just the right time to stir-fry the black-eyed peas.

After a busy day, the whole family washed up and went to bed early. Tang Xianling had dusted himself with talcum powder; it had a faint, refreshing scent. He dusted some on Tieniu as well, but Huangfu Tieniu hugged his husband and said, “Only kids use that stuff. I don’t need it.”

“This powder is pretty expensive.”

“Oh, so you’re calling me a kid, are you? Huangfu Tieniu, I’m your boss.”

“Then the boss should use it.” Huangfu Tieniu hugged his fragrant husband and said, “I’ve got an idea to save on the powder.”

“?”

Huangfu Tieniu rubbed his head against Tang Xianling’s. Tang Xianling: …

Eventually, as they kept rubbing against each other, the mood turned awkward again. Perhaps it was because the room was dark and there were no candles lit. Earlier that evening, after settling the accounts, Big Boss Tang Xianling had sworn: he, too, would live frugally and scrimp.

So the candles were extinguished early.

Candles were quite expensive these days—a bit of a “small luxury”—mainly because they were consumables.

In the dark, people get bolder; after all, they couldn’t see a thing. Things got rowdy, and Tang Xianling, true to form, didn’t hold back. Not only did he start up his beat-up car, but he was downright brazen: “…We did it so many times yesterday. I’m not tired, but I’m worried your body can’t handle it.”

Huangfu Tieniu: …

Then Tang Xianling got a taste of what a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old young man was really like—not some frail bookworm, but a young man with the stamina to scale several mountains and hunt through the wilderness.

It was terrifying.

Finally, Tang Xianling whimpered weakly, “No, no, I have work to do tomorrow. I give up.”

Huangfu Tieniu cherished him dearly. He hugged his soft husband, kissed him, and said, “My big guy won. I concede.”

Finally, he wrung out a handkerchief and carefully wiped his husband down.

Tang Xianling was already snoring away: Zzzz~

The next day, the exceptionally gifted Big Brother Tang rubbed his lower back and sighed, “Youth is truly wonderful.”

As soon as he finished speaking and saw Tieniu looking over, he realized he’d been misunderstood. Tang Xianling quickly dragged out his hoarse voice and said, “I was talking about myself—I was full of energy in my early twenties.”

“And I’m exceptionally gifted.”

He added, “But even when you’re young, you have to exercise restraint.” He put on a serious, solemn face.

In broad daylight, Boss Tang was acting like a proper gentleman again—unlike last night when he’d been bold enough to grope around in the dark.

Huangfu Tieniu said, “Right, we’ll all listen to you.”

Today, Tang Xianling’s job was to roast mung beans and cook shredded pork.

Huangfu Tieniu’s job was to operate the mill, grinding mung bean flour, and sifting the flour a second time. The family had a stone mill. Back when Old Master Tang was still alive, Tang Xianling, to save money, had bought slightly coarse flour—he hadn’t been in business back then, so he’d learned to cut costs from the Lu family; naturally, he was short on cash at the time.

When he sifted the flour a second time himself, he pushed the stone mill all afternoon. That night, as he went to sleep, Tang Xianling groaned: “My back, my back, my back!” His old back.

It was harder on his back than when his legs were wrapped around Tieniu’s waist.

Thinking back on it now, Tang Xianling realized they had gone through some hard times, so he couldn’t help but say to Tieniu, “Why don’t we just let the mule grind it? Don’t strain your back.”

“…My back’s fine. Just a little mung bean flour—it’s no trouble at all,” Huangfu Tieniu said as he pushed the stone mill in the courtyard.

Today, Han Kai was coming to deliver the dried plum vegetables, and Jiang Yun was in charge of sun-drying the second batch.

Everyone had their own tasks to do.

As the family worked in the courtyard, they chatted idly about whatever came to mind. Tang Xianling began recounting his own “great achievements”: “…Back then, I’d be cooking the shredded pork until midnight, then just fall asleep. It felt like I hadn’t slept for even an hour or two, but I’d get up while it was still dark to continue preparing breakfast and fetching water—”

He couldn’t help but boast about himself:

“I was really something back then!”

Huangfu Tieniu listened to Xianling’s words with a pang of bittersweet sympathy. When he heard the last sentence, he couldn’t help but look at Xianling, whose face was beaming with pride. He wasn’t telling these stories to elicit pity or to complain; he genuinely believed he was amazing.

That was certainly true.

“Tang Xianling really is something else.”

“Hehe~”

In Jiang Yun’s view, what Wu-ger was saying wasn’t really suffering; compared to her own youth, it didn’t even come close. But seeing how cheerful Wu-ger looked—not complaining or nagging—she thought to herself: Well, she’d been quite something in her youth, too.

She went through so much.

With that thought, she kept her own “hardships” to herself.

“Wu-ger, yesterday Xiangping asked me why we’re making qizi dou when it’s not a holiday.”

Tang Xianling replied, “I got the idea when I was seeing Third Sister off. Now that the shop’s open, I wanted to treat our customers to some qizi dou. Whether it was during the lawsuit or the fight with Zhao Dalang, everyone in the neighborhood was so kind to help us out. These don’t cost much to make—anyone who wants some can help themselves.”

“That’s a great idea.” Jiang Yun thought it made sense; she hadn’t even considered that.

There were two kinds of “qizi dou”: five-spice egg-flavored and pepper-salt mung bean flour-flavored. After heating the large pot, the diced beans were added and stir-fried over low heat. Soon, a fragrant aroma filled the air, and the small flour cubes began to puff up on all sides. Tang Xianling pinched one up—and instantly: “Hot, hot, hot!”

Huangfu Tieniu walked in. “Let go.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just blow on it.” Tang Xianling flipped it between his hands, blew on it, didn’t eat it himself, but held it up to Tieniu’s lips. “It’s not hot anymore. Try it. I’ve got more experience this time—look how puffed up they are.”

Huangfu Tieniu chewed one; it was slightly hollow inside and had a crispy texture.

“Delicious.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to use whole Sichuan peppercorns. This time I bought dried Sichuan pepper leaves—they’re cheaper. I ground them into powder and mixed them into the dough.” As Tang Xianling spoke, he pinched one himself. It tasted fragrant, but not the kind of overwhelming aroma that makes you scream in surprise at first bite.

After all, the ingredients were simple—just flour—but it was so addictively delicious that you just kept eating one after another.

“Mother, try one.”

Jiang Yun loved these. Having lived in Fengyuan City for over thirty years, she’d developed a true Fengyuan palate. She’d eaten a small bowl at noon, and when Tang Xianling asked if she wanted anything else to buy, Jiang Yun waved her hand and said she wasn’t hungry anymore—she was full.

Tang Xianling: “……”

They really were addictive.

Tang Xianling and Tieniu had pan-fried dumplings with mung bean soup for lunch. They noticed people coming and going intermittently at the entrance of Li’s Sweet Rice Wine Shop, indicating that business was good. However, with the hot weather, all the beverage stalls on Main Street were doing brisk business.

Business at the Old Zhao Family’s Sugar-Oil Pancakes had never recovered since the two families got into a fight.

Tang Xianling wasn’t so arrogant as to think the neighbors from both districts were “uniting against a common enemy” to boycott Old Zhao’s business. While that might have been a factor in the first few days, business had remained sluggish ever since. He guessed it was the heat—people’s appetites weren’t great to begin with, and fried foods tend to cause internal heat.

“Should we offer some drinks?” Tang Xianling pondered while eating.

Jiang Yun suggested, “How about adding some mung bean soup for the evening meal?”

“If it’s mung bean soup, that’s just a freebie—we can’t charge for it.” Tang Xianling felt his prices were already a bit high; asking customers to pay extra for mung bean soup didn’t seem right. It wasn’t hard to make, so selling it as a drink wouldn’t work.

We need a specialty!

Huangfu Tieniu said, “Sell it for a few days first and see how it goes.”

“You’re right.”

On the third day, they smoked some meat—this was in preparation for the egg-stuffed pancakes. They also bought some eggs and arranged with the egg vendor to have sixty more delivered the next day.

It was just past noon that day, and the sun was beating down fiercely. Cui Dabao, who had just finished eating at the West Market, hurriedly paid his bill and headed back. Ding Quan was puzzled: “Brother Cui, why the rush? The sun is at its hottest—why not wait a little longer before heading back?”

“No, no, I have urgent business at home.”

Ding Quan knew Cui Dabao didn’t have much work to do; he was a man of fortune, living off the rent from his properties. Though not wealthy or noble, he led a leisurely and carefree life—a far cry from Ding Quan, who scraped by as a servant to Young Master Wei.

“We’ve just finished our meal and were getting into the swing of things. Let’s chat a bit more.”

Cui Dabao glanced at the bright sunshine outside, thought for a moment—he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he went home now—and stepped back inside to sit down again. “Alright, let’s wait a bit longer and talk some more.”

Ever since that last time, when only Ding Quan and another servant had gone to Baxing District to buy pork floss bread, Cui Dabao and Ding Quan had grown closer. Though they were merely drinking buddies, there was still a genuine bond between them.

“Old Man, you’re rushing home in this heat—is something wrong at home?” Ding Quan asked with concern. He remembered that Old Man’s household consisted only of an elderly man and his son-in-law. “Is it about your father-in-law and your son-in-law?”

Cui Dabao: “No, no, nothing’s wrong at home.” Seeing that Ding Quan was genuinely concerned, he glanced around—there was no one else nearby—and whispered, “I’ll tell you this in confidence, but don’t go blabbing it around.”

Ding Quan: ?

“Of course.”

Cui Dabao: “Brother Tang Wu is reopening for breakfast tomorrow.”

Ding Quan: !!!

His eyes lit up.

Cui Dabao: “The regulars in the neighborhood told us not to say a word. Boss Tang runs his business on a five-day workweek with two days off. There’s nothing we can do about it. I haven’t had Boss Tang’s breakfast in nearly a month—I’m really craving it. His father passed away recently, so we can’t exactly go knocking on their door just for a meal, right?”

“Right, right. You are a man of principle.” Ding Quan paid him a compliment, then added sincerely, “It’s not that you should be worried, Old Man, but the regulars in Baxing District are right to be concerned. Outsiders don’t know how delicious Brother Tang’s breakfast is—we’ve bought and eaten it ourselves, so we know. Nowadays, the buzz about Brother Tang’s breakfast is all over the place—everyone’s curious and wants to show their support.”

Cui Dabao: …Heaven help me, he’ll have to get up early every day from now on.

Come to think of it, he was actually quite pleased.

He was the first to discover this treasure, and now everyone wants to know what a great find it is.

And it’s not just Cui Dabao bragging!

“Never mind the common folk—even Young Master Wei mentioned it the other day after hearing about Brother Tang. He said, ‘That pork floss bread was made by him,’ and looked like he wanted to buy some more, but unfortunately, Brother Tang’s shop was closed. He mentioned it again later, but since the young master is so busy, he hasn’t brought it up recently. Still, I think it’s stuck in his mind.” That last part was Ding Quan’s own addition, but he reasoned that even if the young master had forgotten, he himself hadn’t. He’d buy some later and send it to Young Master Wei to try.

That’s how a personal assistant does his job. The young master has so many pleasures and pastimes; if he mentions something twice offhand, it means he’s taken a slight interest or has some curiosity about it. If Ding Quan remembers to send it over, he’s sure to earn a reward—

Of course, there were also instances where something once favored had, over time and due to some mishap, turned from fondness into distaste. That happened too.

The thoughts of noble lords and young masters are hard to fathom.

However, their tastes in food tend to be more consistent.

Cui Dabao listened to these words and poured tea for Ding Quan. “Your job is truly no easy task. I’ll get up early tomorrow and help you buy some.”

“No need to trouble you, Brother Cui. I’ll get up early and go check things out myself.” Actually, Ding Quan was hoping for a “second chance.” Last time, he’d delivered a box of pork floss bread to Young Master Wei—the box itself had belonged to the Wei family, and after a previous connection, Young Master Wei had simply handed it over to him.

He’d thought the bread was nicely wrapped, and the plate was simple and clean, but when Young Master Wei opened the box and glanced inside, he dismissed it as “crude.”

Ding Quan knew immediately what Young Master Wei meant by “crude”—the bread was simply too large.

Young Master Wei came from a distinguished family and was accustomed to exquisite cuisine, especially pastries, which were supposed to be delicate, dainty, and beautifully decorated. To the average person, the bread made by Master Tang was already quite attractive, but in Young Master Wei’s eyes, it fell short.

But Young Master Wei had a pretty good temperament; he wasn’t the type to belittle his servants. He gave them a bit of “face,” saying, “Since you’ve brought it all the way here, why not have a bite?”

In the end, he ate it all.

Ding Quan stood by, not daring to laugh.

Cui Dabao had no idea Young Master Wei found it “crude”—otherwise, he would have been furious. “It’s delicious in every way,” he thought. “What’s so crude about it? Rich folks just make a fuss over nothing!”

The two chatted for another half-hour, agreeing on a time to meet the next day—Cui Dabao was experienced in this; he’d waited in line every day before. Seeing that the sun wasn’t so scorching anymore, Cui Dabao left the West Market, hailed a cab home, and upon returning, told Douzi, “I’m skipping dinner. I’ll wash up and go to bed.”

Since the start of summer, the milk had been delivered to the front of Mr. Tang’s shop every morning. Now that Sun Douzi was the one fetching it, he felt a deep respect for Mr. Tang. Later, when he “showed Mr. Tang the village graveyard,” they met face-to-face and could get along and chat.

He didn’t dare to talk too much with Mr. Tang, afraid Mr. Tang would find him a chatterbox.

“Alright, go rest. But won’t you be hungry if you skip dinner?” Sun Douzi fetched some water for Da Bao to wash up.

Cui Dabao said as he got ready for bed, “I’m not hungry. I ate a lot at noon.”

There were plenty of guests like Cui Dabao. He ate a light dinner that day, washed up early, and went to bed. It was still light out in the summer, which the family found odd, but no one asked—they knew why he was going to bed so early.

Zhou Xiangping was the same. “Tomorrow I’ll buy some pork floss bread for Dad. What do you want to eat, Mom?”

Mrs. Zhu was also a thrifty woman. When her daughter-in-law asked, she didn’t refuse by saying “no.” Instead, she changed her tune: “I haven’t had one in ages, and I’m really craving it. I’ll have a red bean paste pot bun.”

Don’t let her age fool you—her teeth were in better shape than her husband’s, and she still loved food with a good chew.

Zhu Si and Zhou Xiangping had a son and a daughter. Their daughter, just four years old, was named Zhenzhu. It was clear how much the couple doted on her; without her mother even asking, Zhenzhu said, “Mommy, I want something with meat.”

“Alright,” Zhou Xiangping replied.

Since her family sold pork, they never lacked for it at home, especially with the leftovers from hot days. Their daughter, Zhenzhu, used to have little interest in pork, complaining it had a strong smell. But once the pork reached Master Tang’s hands, Zhenzhu developed a taste for the pickled preserved vegetables and pork pot-buns; everything else was just ordinary to her.

Dusk was falling.

Tang Xianling had prepared three days’ worth of goods. Today, he checked the oven, spent most of the morning cutting oil paper, wiped down everything that needed cleaning, and, having finished his preparations, went to bed early.

“Wu-ger, go to bed early. Don’t make a racket.” Before entering the room, Jiang Yun found Wu-ger and whispered, “Don’t wear yourself out.”

Tang Xianling: …

His face flushed red.

Wait, Mom, you know?

There’s the main hall between us! Is it really that bad at blocking sound?

He stammered a yes.

As soon as his mother left, Tang Wu frantically elbowed his classmate Huangfu Tieniu.

“!!!”

“Did I make a sound? I thought I held it in.”

Aaaaaah, I actually made a sound—how embarrassing!

Huangfu Tieniu said honestly and earnestly, “A little sound slipped out. Maybe because it’s quiet at night, especially late at night. Your voice wasn’t loud, but it was a bit muffled—mumbling and whimpering—especially toward the end. You couldn’t hold back… Otherwise, next time, just bite my shoulder.”

Tang Xianling: “I didn’t ask you to go into that much detail!”

You call yourself an innocent Tieniu? You did that on purpose, didn’t you!