C1 1

Trees were the parasites of the leaves.

The library in this city was an old building, and one could tell that it had been here for quite some time. There were many books in the library, but they had not been updated for many years.

At the long black table, the man was reading a thick book by himself. The ordinary plaid shirt wrapped around his slim body, the rimless glasses on his face, and the sea flowing in front of him. At first glance, he could be considered as a very delicate person.

Feeling that it was about time, he raised his head and gently closed the book in his hands.

The book was old. The words on the cover could not be read clearly, as if they had been dipped in water. The words had faded, making it difficult to read them.

He reached out and gently wiped the dust from the book. The rough paper rubbed against his skin to warm his fingertips, then he stood up and picked up his coat and scarf from the back of the chair. He placed the book under his arm and headed for the door.

It seemed that winter had arrived a little earlier. Although it was still late autumn by now, the weather was unbearably cold and the sky was getting dark very early.

Qian Ye put the book in front of his chest and pulled at the collar of his jacket. The wind blew into his neck, causing him to feel ice-cold. He did not have the habit of getting more clothes on, no matter how cold it was, it was just a jacket inside. Someone once said that this habit of his was very bad, and that person liked to sleep by the window.

At seven in the morning, the door of a small house at the end of the street opened on time.

The banana under the window of the shop was covered with water droplets, and the flowers were blooming beautifully. The aroma of bread wafted through the partially opened glass door.

The location of the bakery was a little off. Usually, not many people would pass by, but luckily, there were some students who would come over in the morning to buy bread for breakfast.

The bell hanging from the door made a crisp sound. The auntie from the next snack bar walked in with a bucket of water on her waist. She called out sweetly, "Ye!"

Qian Ye looked up from the workbench and smiled, "Good morning!"

Aunt was a straightforward person and went straight to the point: "Ye, our family's dead ghost Aa Qiang doesn't earn any money. He ate a crab last night and had a bad stomach. He's still paralyzed on the bed!"

"Is he okay?" His wife's son, Aa Qiang, was a pastry chef at a hotel. In fact, he could be considered to be his colleague. Furthermore, he had received Aa Qiang's guidance when he first opened the restaurant, so he could be considered as half a master.

"He won't die!" But he still has a job at the hotel tonight, they said that he can't take a leave of absence due to lack of people, "Speaking to here, the aunt looked at Qian Ye with a pleading expression," Furthermore, the hotel is very strict, any small mistake will result in expulsion, so there's no other way, so I want to ask you to help him out. "

Qian Ye frowned awkwardly, "It's not that I don't want to help, it's just that my cooking skills are really..."

"It doesn't matter!" Auntie quickly waved her hands, "Aa Qiang has asked the people in the hotel, as long as we can find someone to replace him, we don't need to do anything. The aunt quickly waved her hand," Aa Qiang has asked the people in the hotel, as long as we can find someone to replace him, we don't need to do anything.

Qian Ye was a little hesitant. Although he wanted to help, but …

Seeing that he wanted to say something, the aunt continued, "Please, Ye, it's only 3 hours, why don't you earn money?"

Qian Ye smiled and thought for a while. In the end, he nodded, "Alright then."

Seeing that he promised his aunt, he revealed a smile, "That's right, at 8 PM, I'll go back and tell Aa Qiang to say hello to the people there. Someone will come to pick you up!"

Qian Ye nodded.

The aunt walked to the door, then suddenly turned around and sighed at him, "In the future, whoever becomes your wife will die from happiness!"

Qian Ye raised the corner of his mouth and smiled helplessly.

Returning to the workbench, he took out the dough that had almost been kneaded, and gently patted it with his hands. His slender white fingers were almost the same color as the flour.

It wasn't the color of health. Qian Ye hated it, but he didn't know if it was because of that color or because of himself.

After rubbing it a few times, he suddenly stopped. After a moment, he raised his right hand and slowly raised it in front of his eyes. The wound had already healed, but the scar was still there. Only he knew how deep that wound was.

All of this was exactly what he wanted.

He could no longer do the heavy work of kneading dough. He could only slowly knead it with one hand. He missed the best time to do it, so the bread he made didn't taste good.

He would do the rolling of the dough by pressing it down bit by bit.

Ordinary white noodles, thick and thin, green and oily vegetables. He liked to put them all in water for boiling, and also chopped green onions. It was very simple, just like Qian Ye.