The national male god is fierce and strong

Chapter 392 Yan, you are a monster!
Where did Smith know about Yan Tao's itinerary?

He was just sitting on the sidelines, trying to get close.

Young Master Yan saw it earlier at the airport.

Xiaoqi: Master, this little old man is really willing to work hard just to listen to this song.

Yan Tao pursed his lips and smiled.

This day was full of dust and dust, and she was exhausted physically and mentally after sitting on a plane for seven or eight hours.

I fell into bed and slept comfortably until the next morning.

It was exactly 07:30 when Young Master Yan restrained his breath and stood up during his daily meditation practice.

"Grandma, you didn't cook?"

Granny Jiang was on strike strangely today. The old lady was sitting on a ponytail, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and waving at her grandson.

Young Master Yan moved a ponytail and sat down after him, his handsome face came close to Granny Jiang, "Grandma, your child is hungry."

The little old lady adjusted her reading glasses, looked at the boy slowly, and caressed the boy's hair, "Are you hungry?"

Young Master Yan nodded.

"Turn around and walk ten steps forward, sleep on the bed for a while, and you won't feel hungry when you fall asleep."

Yantao...! ! !
Young Master Yan's eyes were resentful: "Grandma, did you pick me up from the side of the road?"

Granny Jiang shook her head, lowered her head and threaded her needle, "I picked you up from the trash can."

Yantao...

As the old saying goes, do it yourself and have enough food and clothing.

Young master Yan got up to cook.

Holding the kitchen knife with her long, plain white fingers, she cut the tofu into neat small pieces and stacked them.

The whole movement is smooth and flowing, it doesn't seem to be cooking at all, and the slender fingers can't be seen whiter than the tofu.

A light and fresh aroma spread from the kitchen.

Granny Jiang sat at the dining table with her little Mazha in her arms, happily eating the breakfast made by her grandson.

Yan Qinkuai's peach blossom eyes fell on the face of the little old lady who was eating happily, thinking suspiciously: She didn't do it on purpose, did she?
Granny Jiang squinted her eyes in enjoyment: the rice cooked by the eldest grandson is delicious.

Xiaoqi, who accurately captures the emotions of the little old lady...

"Knock knock."

Smith picked a good time to go to the door.

As soon as he entered the yard, he couldn't help smelling the aroma of rice.

Granny Jiang warmly invited: "Come along and eat something?"

The meals on the table are exquisite and beautiful.

Full color and flavor.

It is a dish modified by Yantao according to the taste of Chinese people.

Smith's words of refusal turned into a nod: Chinese people really enjoy it.

The taste of the entrance is overflowing with fresh fragrance.

It's delicious.

Smith: Oh, good time!
Great time!

How could it be so good!
He has eaten a lot of high-end dishes, and the meals of various countries have their own local characteristics.

Chinese cuisine is the most distinctive among them.

The smoke and fire in the food is not found in all cuisines.

After Smith finished eating, he couldn't wait to ask, "Where did you buy this?"

Granny Jiang pointed to the boy opposite, and ate by herself.

The eldest grandson finally came back, just in case he ran away again someday.

She needs to eat more.

Smith thought it was Yantao who went out to buy it, and looked at it questioningly.

"I made it."

Holding the chopsticks with his plain fingers, the young man took a sip of the soup gracefully.

"No, it's impossible, right?"

This level is at least the level that can only be produced by masters who have been immersed in cooking for more than ten years.

Yan Tao made it in his teens?

Smith was so startled that his eyeballs almost fell off, and he opened his mouth in surprise: "Yan, not only can you play the piano, but your grades are so good, you can even cook?!"

God!

God, he really met a monster!
　Ahem, the stupid author of Nimeng's family overslept.

　　First up to four thousand, and there are still twelve thousand (woo woo woo, next time I will definitely save the manuscript before I die)
　　Maybe seven or eight or nine o'clock?There will definitely be more, don't worry.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)