Although it wasn't as difficult to swallow as expected, the taste of the noodles was not bad.
Even though there was nothing astonishingly delicious, after all, it was just a bowl of noodles.
But Jing Qiao was well aware that the young master of the Song Family had not touched spring water with his own hands for years, having been under the strict upbringing of his grandfather, adopting the philosophy that a gentleman should stay away from the kitchen.
Previously, to put it dramatically, he couldn't even boil water clearly.
And now, he could make a bowl of noodles that didn't taste horrible.
"Do they taste awful?" Bo Yuan asked.
A hint of seriousness flickered in his eyes. It made no sense, even if it wasn't very good, it shouldn't be awful, especially since he had tried making it several times.
Jing Qiao swallowed the food in her mouth and pursed her lips before shaking her head, "They're not bad."
She looked up at Bo Yuan, "When did you learn to cook noodles?"
