Even if the King of Heaven himself came, fried eggs must be cooked directly with high-temperature oil. So when Chen Mo cracked eggs into just-melted, still-cool lard, the onlookers were completely baffled.
Fortunately, Chen Mo's movements were very smooth, and the next step was something that anyone who often cooks could understand.
Guo Aiping watched as Chen Mo poured two servings of overnight rice into the pan and suddenly realized, "Oh, so that's it. The young boss intends to make a fried rice similar to golden egg fried rice."
Old Zhao turned his head, "You know that? I've never seen you cook it."
There was no joy or sorrow on Guo Aiping's face, only a hint of indifference in her voice as she retorted, "Haven't seen you come home to eat the meals I cook, have I?"
Good heavens!
Old Zhao turned his head, trembling, attempting to mask his unease with silence.
