"Dinner, Fu Zhiyue, take the chopsticks."

Zhang Luo for an hour, four dishes and one soup out of the pot, instructing Fu Zhiyue to work, always eating ready-made, will spoil him, in the future, it is difficult for me to do so as his servant ah.

This time Fu Zhimei had no complaints and no nonsense. He came directly.

"Star."

"Hmm?"

I'm bowing my head and setting my plate. I've always believed in color, aroma and taste. Even if you cook delicious dishes without good looks, the taste will be discounted.

Fu Zhimei's voice made me wonder. Yu Guang swept him to stand in front of me and did not...