He brought sealed Michelin three-and-a-half star semi-finished products, which just needed to be cooked with fire.
There was no one else around, the man gently pinched his thumb and ring finger together, and a bright white, holy flame danced on his fingertips.
The flame effortlessly ignited the damp woodpile, and the man, whose fingers remained clean from dirt, quickly prepared a table full of dishes.
Xia Ye was squatting by a small stream at that time, busy with something.
Next to the mine, there was a small stream that was high on the east and low on the west, with a strong current, resembling a small waterfall.
Xia Ye squatted by the river with a sieve in hand, which was filled with a lot of mud and sand.
This mud and sand were brought out of the pit by Cook at her request.
Cook stood on the stones beside the stream, holding a flashlight for her.
His trouser legs were rolled up high, and the sweat beads on his forehead had not completely disappeared yet.
