Princess too Young, Prince too Old

He felt the touch of his hands. He knew that it was the back of a young man. This man was also very handsome and handsome. He looked charming and charming. He had never had such a close contact with a man, even Shelen.

He felt like a grass growing up and down. I don't know since when his throat began to itch, and it became more dry and uncomfortable. This kind of discomfort made him feel tormented.

He swallowed his saliva vigorously, only feeling that his throat was more painful, and he became irritable in his heart, and the strength of his hands suddenly became much stronger, and then heared comfortably as Lu Zhicheng said, "Okay. Comfortable! You can work harder! Oh oh! So cool! Zhou Chi, make a little more effort! That's ... oh ... comfortable ... "

Zhou Chi's face turned red, her hands were frozen in the air, and she could no longer say anything. Lu Zhicheng was urging him again. When he was anxious, he listened to the voice of the guard from outside: "General, dinner is already here."

Zhou Chi breathed a sigh of relief, and was too busy to get down from the soft couch and walk to the side of the basin to wash his hands while restoring his chaotic mood.

"It's really time to come," Lu Zhicheng muttered dissatisfied, taking out his jacket and putting it on, while he said to the outside, "Come in."

"Yes." The guard was busy picking in the curtains, and let a pot on the table. Three other guards put a plate of pasta, various vegetables, tofu and dipping sauce on the table, and then He bowed back.

"Zhou Chi, come here? Washing your hands is awkward," Lu Zhicheng held chopsticks to urge Zhou Chi, "Come and come!"

Zhou Chi actually has no worries about eating now, but it's not good to go out like this. He rubbed his hands rubbingly, feeling that his face was not so hot, and then he put down the quilt and returned to the soft couch. Then, looking at the display on the little table, he knew that he was going to eat the pot. He was in a better mood. Sitting on the soft couch, he asked, "What pot? Lamb?"

"Lamb is a hair product. You have n’t been injured yet. How can you eat mutton?" Luzhi Chengdao opened the lid and immediately burst into hot air. The fragrance overflowed. Luzhicheng lowered the lid of the pot and looked proud. "This is an authentic Wenchang chicken. Originally, it was best to cook salt-baked chicken, but I think there is a pot in the kitchen, and it's a little bit shabu-shabu. I think you can't easily eat the pot in Nanjiang, so Jiuhua ordered people to blunt the chicken. If you try it, you don't know if Wenchang chicken is good in a pot. "

Zhou Chi was used to eating spicy pots in Nanjiang. He had n’t eaten this kind of white soup pot for a few years. He just felt the index finger moving when he smelled the smell. It's beautiful, and she told Luzhicheng while wiping her sweat: "You also have a bowl of soup, which is really good."

Lu Zhicheng also drank half a bowl of soup, and his face was sweating, but he felt comfortable at the same time. At the moment, two people are eating chicken and simmering vegetables. There are many types of mushrooms in southern Xinjiang. There are more than a dozen kinds of mushrooms prepared. Luzhicheng, a newcomer to the north, hardly recognizes it. Naturally, he has to consult with Zhou Chi, a local who has been in southern Xinjiang for twenty years.

"What's this name?" Lu Zhicheng asked Zhou Chi, pointing to a plate of mushrooms, "how so strange? It looks like a small umbrella."

Zhou Chi, while holding his chicken legs, told Lu Zhicheng: "This is bamboo worm, which is parasitic on dead bamboo. It is best to make soup."

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