When Shen Ziheng saw how much Feng Wuhen liked those meatballs, he thought that they would never come here again after this, so he wanted to learn the craft before they left. That way, if Feng Wuhen wanted to eat them in the future, he could make them for him.
Auntie Zhang saw through his intentions at a glance, but when she got a clear look at Shen Ziheng's face, she was momentarily stunned.
"You know, you and Little Feng do look somewhat alike. Especially your face shapes and noses."
Hearing Auntie Zhang's words, Mo Qingran carefully examined Feng Wuhen's and Shen Ziheng's faces. Looking closely, they really did bear about a thirty percent resemblance.
But the vast world held countless people, so it was normal for some to look alike. Still, he always felt that the two of them shared some special connection.
Neither Shen Ziheng nor Feng Wuhen gave it much thought. Feng Wuhen felt that with so many people in the world, it was perfectly normal for some to resemble one another.
Shen Ziheng, on the other hand, was delighted. He stepped forward, threw an arm around Feng Wuhen's shoulders, and said, "Sure enough, the two of us are just that fated. From now on, if I say you're my little brother when we're out, nobody will ever guess that we aren't blood brothers."
Seeing how happy he was, Feng Wuhen felt that it was rather nice as well.
When they returned to Feng Wuhen's thatched hut, they did not go inside. Instead, with perfect unspoken coordination, they each took out a meditation cushion from their storage rings, placed them on the ground, and began meditating.
Cultivators could use meditation in place of sleep. The next day, when dawn had barely broken, everyone emerged from their meditative