At the dining table, Wen's mother kept serving food to him and Shen Yi, the landlord's wife was feeding the little girl, and Da Huang was squatting at the door. The food in the dog bowl was also quite good, just not well-presented. It was a mix of rice, steamed buns, and various meats, but definitely high-quality stuff, you could even see half a pig's trotter.
As for Old Mr. Wen, he kept glancing at him now and then, his eyes full of gloom and confusion.
He had crashed; he did not expect to falter in the hands of a young man.
One must know, he often battled with the older folks in the village, and with his intelligence, although not undefeated, he had never lost so miserably.
