Zhou Wei dutifully pulled the roasted sweet potatoes out of the charcoal fire. The scorching hot sweet potatoes, their skin charred black, were thrown on the ground, resembling several lumps of coal.
The old Duke put down the terrain map and picked up a sweet potato, peeling its skin to show Zhou Wei. "Look, my skills haven't deteriorated, have they? With its flesh bright and orange, you can tell it's sweet just from its appearance."
Zhou Wei hadn't eaten sweet potatoes like this in years. He remembered, when he was a child, his grandfather had taken them to practice drills on barren hills during the winter. They too warmed sweet potatoes on charcoal. "In the heart of winter, during a march or a battle, just a bite of this can sustain me for several days," he used to say.
Zhou Wei nodded with a smile, picked up a sweet potato, peeled it, and took a bite. "Mmm, grandfather's culinary skills have not deteriorated. It tastes just as I remember from my childhood."