Cook

Old Luo set down the tray and stroked his chin with his right hand.

"Can I ask what you need him for?"

"I need his help with something. It ain't dangerous, I guarantee it. Once it's done, I'll make you a big oven that can cook stuff without fire. How's that?"

"Mm... That does sound nice, but... sigh, you'd better go see for yourself. He's in the kitchen."

Miviman lowered his head and wolfed down several more bites, then glanced at the kitchen curtain swaying faintly.

"Thanks, Old Luo."

He drained the mushroom wine from the cup beside him in one gulp, then wiped his mouth.

"Let me go take a look."

The moment he lifted the curtain and stepped inside, he saw two ventilation fans spinning and buzzing beside an oil lamp. Beneath them, beside a squeaking gas stove, a bald man as round as a ball stared intently at a frying pan. When he finally realized there was someone else in the kitchen—

He immediately spotted Miviman.

"Ah!"

His shrill voice was like a rat's. It was hard to imagine such a fat person producing such a sound.

"I've never seen clothes this gray and shabby, but I know you must be the boss!"

"Guess you got that right."

Miviman lowered his head and followed an odd smell to the man's thick legs, his pair of bare feet, and the slippers nearly buried beneath those fat feet.

The cook's white uniform had long since lost its original color. It looked like a rag, glistening with grease, just like his head.

"Then welcome to my kitchen! This is where I show off my skills! Just call me Wooden Stump. What should I call you, Boss?"

He eagerly left the stove. It took his legs eight or nine steps to