The little oven on Li Wen's side had not stopped either.
The Honey Buns baked to a golden crust, steaming when broken open, their insides as soft as clouds.
The Egg Tarts had flaky crusts that shed crumbs and tender, smooth, sweet fillings.
Several Holy Human Race children finished eating but lingered wistfully at the window, reluctant to leave.
A woman in an old long dress had originally bought just one Egg Tart for her child.
The child took a bite, immediately cupped the remaining half protectively in both hands, and asked softly:
"Mom, can we take this back for Dad to try?"
The woman froze for a moment, felt her purse, then gritted her teeth and bought two more.
Seeing this, Li Wen quietly slipped an extra bun into the bag.
The woman thanked her repeatedly, her smile a little embarrassed.
Not far away, the Rye Bread vendor watched, dumbfounded.
Hardly anyone had visited his stall in ages, yet a long line had already formed beside this Great Xia food truck.
Even more absurdly, many customers kept taking huge bites while complaining that the food bit their tongues and was so hot.
After finishing their stir-fried pork, they bought bread.
After finishing their bread, they bought beer and cola.
Then they even asked whether they could get takeout.
"Have they cast some kind of magic?" the bread vendor muttered to himself.
Beside him, an old mercenary wiped the sweat from his forehead, holding a bowl of Fried Rice Noodles with Egg and slurping nonstop.
"It's not magic. Try it yourself."
He shoveled the last mouthful of rice into his mouth and said indistinctly:
"It's the flavor. It's just so good!"
With that, he raised his empty bowl.
"Boss, another helping! Your food might bite my tongue, but it's delicious