Sheng Ning suddenly became a bit worried, "Will I get food poisoning?"
"Noodles!" Xu Qigang uncomfortably averted his gaze, "I can only cook noodles."
Sheng Ning's curiosity was piqued, wondering if he used to eat noodles for every meal at home. "So what did you eat at home before? You couldn't have mooched off other people's meals every time, right?" His mother-in-law couldn't cook, and his father-in-law's skills were not to be tested.
"My dad is good at making fried rice, and I'm good at boiling noodles," Xu Qigang coughed lightly, answering with utmost seriousness—as if he were attending an important meeting.
"Hahaha..." Sheng Ning couldn't hold back and burst into hearty laughter, "Living Yama, so this is your specialty? Then what would you not be good at?"
"Don't laugh." Someone became annoyed and embarrassed.
Sheng Ning leaned into his embrace, "I was wrong, let me taste the noodles you're good at."
