After leaving, Fang Yue found a breakfast stall.
He ordered a bowl of pig's blood soup and a basket of shumai.
The pig's blood soup at this stall looked very authentic. The fresh pig's blood was a brilliant, vibrant red, congealed in a basin.
The owner of the breakfast stall cut the blood into uniform small cubes and added them to a pot to simmer over a low fire.
Under the heat of the Flame, the tender, fragile pig's blood gradually firmed up.
After his breakfast was served, Fang Yue ate two pieces of shumai while they were hot, then took a sip of the pig's blood soup.
He took a large gulp, and the broth trickled down the corner of his mouth.
It was fresh, savory, and delicious. This was clearly an old, established business. The flavor was excellent, and in an era where seasonings were scarce, it was no worse than what he remembered from his past life.
More importantly, it was all-natural with no additives. The fresh, delicious taste made him want to devour it all.
