"This is soup noodles, right? Fried noodles with rainwater couldn't possibly have this result," Qin Zeyu exclaimed, chewing on his bun while examining Lin Li's breakfast, surprised, "And our buns haven't turned into soup buns. They shouldn't have absorbed water."
"That's right, Zeyu, I declare you a wise being of Class Four in High School First Year!" Lin Li praised, then handed the bag and chopsticks to Bai Bufan:
"The fried noodles were sold out, and waiting for them would take awhile. I didn't have time to wait, so I exchanged it for you."
Actually, it's not that he had no time at all. For example, there's still some time before the morning self-study starts. Lin Li wasn't cutting it close by any means.
But surely Lin Li couldn't miss the morning's wild tales session just to make sure Bai Bufan gets the breakfast he wants, could he?
Though Bai Bufan could retell them, a rebroadcast doesn't have the same ceremony as a live stream.
"Understood."
