The young landwoman set the griddle for the barbecue in place, then used a small brush to spread the ash-gold cooking oil evenly across it.
This cooking oil had special pine resin added to it, allowing it to be used for a long time without worrying about it scorching black.
"Two more bottles of watermelon juice." Jiang Han held up two fingers and gave the landwoman a small smile.
She would need an ID if she wanted to drink beer with her appearance. And Miss Chen Ligu was not at an age suitable for drinking beer either, so they could only regretfully abandon their plan of pairing barbecue with beer.
Miss Chen Ligu took off her octagonal cap and hung it on the coat hook by their small booth, then said to the waitress, who had not yet had time to leave:
"Please bring us two cups of hot corn juice as well."
The waitress wrote it down and left. As a landwoman, the first rule of working in a restaurant serving witches was to never assume that a witch could not eat that much.
Even a five-year-old little witch had an appetite comparable to that of an adult landman in his prime—perhaps even slightly greater.
Of course, their ability to endure hunger was beyond anything landfolk could imagine. They could eat five to ten times as much food, then digest it slowly and survive for nearly a month without a single grain of rice or scrap of meat. But that was only a hypothetical; witches' ability to forage, and the range of things they could eat, were terrifying.
They could eat carrion, gnaw on plants, even consume dirt, stones, and minerals. It would be unpleasant to eat, but they truly could eat them.
"There are actually landfolk working here,