8:12 AM, Qin Huai held a plate with his left hand and chopsticks with his right. On the plate were 18 small, delicate Xiao Long Bao, steaming hot with translucent thin skins, each pleat perfectly crafted as if they had walked out of the painting of a meticulous artist with OCD.
These 18 Xiao Long Bao matched everyone's fantasy of the perfect Xiao Long Bao.
They were crystal clear but not completely transparent, the skin was so thin that it didn't need strong light. Even under natural light, you could feel the light was about to penetrate the skin, showing the soup and meat inside.
