When all nine cucumbers were finished, the entire plate was nearly full. The nine cucumbers on the plate were all in the same position, with the top of each cucumber slightly raised inward towards the center of the plate without any position error. Even the tails of the cucumbers were kept at a strangely equal distance from each other.
With a quick flash of the knife, he aimed at Ming Yuan, who started and instinctively raised his hand to catch it, grasping the knife handle.
"Master Ming, thank you for your knife." Nian Bing's heart seemed to have completely melted into the dishes in front of him. His eyes landed on the jadeite-like cukes on the tray, looking at the faint white frost rising up, pulling out a small cloth sack from his chest, the tool he had used while making pigeon rice for Feng Nu at the Second-Hand Ironware Shop.