Ruan Xinxue picked up a white cloth, intending to lift the lid of one of the clay pots to take a look.
Just then, the door to Qin Yang's room opened, and Qin Yang, who had just finished his cultivation, walked out.
"Um, I'm here to help you with the cooking."
Ruan Xinxue looked up to see Qin Yang, her pretty face blushing, and hurriedly said.
"Hmm, it's ready to eat."
Qin Yang said with a smile.
The two of them carried the two large clay pots out from the kitchen together.
As the lid of the clay pot was lifted, steaming heat rose up, scattered herbs on the black-bone chicken, and the rich fragrance spread out, making one's heart and spirit tremble.
At this moment, Qin Yang's eyes also looked excitedly at his clay pot. The thirty-year-old wild ginseng had been cooked until mushy, with its roots draped over one of the black-bone chickens.
"Let's dig in."
