Seeing that Wang Qi did not like herring porridge, the porridge-stall owner hurriedly brought over a bowl of mung bean porridge. Wang Qi took only two sips before setting it down again.
The family Wang Qi had been born into in this life was not immensely wealthy, but they never lacked food or clothing. They could still afford seasonings like sugar. But this little stall catered to ordinary craftsmen—how could it have prepared such a luxurious thing as ample sugar? Wang Qi's mung bean porridge had too little sugar, and all he could taste was the faint beany stink.
Watching Wang Qi stir the herring porridge around and around with his chopsticks, Mao Zimiao frowned and scolded, "That won't do, Little Qi. You can't be a picky eater!"
The young man gave two noncommittal hums and picked several chunks of herring out of the porridge to eat.
The girl was somewhat displeased, and the cat ears atop her head twitched twice. "Drink your porridge obediently!"
As though he had not heard her, Wang Qi continued stirring the porridge with his chopsticks for fun.
Mao Zimiao was a little dissatisfied, feeling that Wang Qi should not have ignored her. But when she looked at his bowl, she remembered seeing him rake through fried rice the day before yesterday. The girl could not help laughing. "You're really absorbed, meow!"
Hearing Mao Zimiao's sigh, Wang Qi let out a breath of relief. Stirring porridge with chopsticks was merely a habit that had become second nature. On the ship, he had tried using the Method of Contemplation to control his motion sickness. Unfortunately, his motion sickness was physiological, and the Method of Contemplation had limited effect. After contemplating the Flame Cloud Diagram for so long, Wang Qi had grown accustomed to casually tracing patterns