“Sorry – I’m not wrong.”
After getting older, I picked up slightly, took a step back suspiciously, and looked at the words on the door. There was a spatula on it. It was not wrong.
Feng Yin heard the sound, looked at the door, and instantly matched the old man in front of him with a photo of an introduction on the wall on the first floor.
Yes, it’s the one she’s going to wait for.
“Hello, you are right. Teacher Guan has something to do at home. I will help you with a class. My name is Feng Yin.”
The old man at the door was wearing a black medium-length cotton jacket and holding the hat he had just taken off. After listening to Feng Yin’s explanation, he asked with a hint of entanglement: “You have a good relationship with Mr. Guan?”
Feng Yin had already walked off the podium, and the smile on his face was very real, not the kind of service smile.
This group of people are all old people, and sincerity is the only ultimate skill.
Huh?
Not right, she also has a killing move.
“It’s familiar, let’s exchange cooking skills occasionally.”
As soon as this was said, the person at the door, whose dark eyes were lit up instantly, and his footsteps couldn’t help but step forward and asked, “Oh? If you can communicate cooking skills with Lao Guan, then your cooking skills must be good.”
“I think it’s good.”
Feng Yin said this half-jokingly, but the confidence between his eyebrows made the old man at the door believe it, and his back foot also entered the classroom.
“That’s good, that’s good.”
The old man didn’t explain what that meant. He just walked into the classroom, walked to the table he often used, sat down, and looked at Feng Yin.
Feng Yin did not over-promote herself, and returned to her operating table and continued to organize the ingredients.