Oliver Bloom smiled gently and picked up another bamboo skewer, his hands working simultaneously.
A warm breeze blew from outside, carrying a hint of coolness, allowing one to suddenly relax on this night.
The 47-second curse disappeared.
The pain in his shoulder vanished too.
He fought valiantly just to defeat his rival and make the most perfectly shaped little balls.
This was the key focus of his life.
And Elise Don, who bravely volunteered to handle six, started off orderly, but in the end, she found that each of Oliver Bloom's was as perfect as the ad picture on the wall, and she couldn't keep her composure.
"Why aren't mine round enough?"
Not just not round enough.
On Elise Don's side, half of the balls bore a deep yellow on one side and a liquidy mess on the other.
She played a trick, even poking Oliver Bloom's.
"Elise Don," Oliver Bloom glanced at her seriously, his hand blocking her bamboo skewer.
"Don't come and mess things up."
