Nan Jinyi stood on the corner of the street with an umbrella, and his eyes fell over the weasel to the porridge stall owner.

The boss is telling the truth, his lean porridge has always been like this, and the people who come to him to drink the porridge also know it, but they don't mind, and even think that the porridge with fat meat tastes more delicious. They are all poor people, and they may not be willing to cut one or two pieces of meat for themselves from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.

Seeing that the weasel swept his gaze over, the boss hurriedly folded his hands and turned to everyone, his expression was more ugly than crying.

An uncle plucked up the courage to stand up: "This son, we like to drink the porridge of the boss's family, we don't care about what fat and lean meat, we think it's worth it." You don't like you to go to another house, you don't

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