He kept stirring in the pot with a spoon, and the aroma of porridge gradually overflowed, which was more than the porridge that his milk boiled.
He was not in a hurry when he cooked congee, and he stopped working in his hands for a long time.
When the porridge was put out, the porridge was already mushy and completely rotten.
Wangcai couldn’t help swallowing.
Naturally, Su Shen’s porridge didn’t give him any portion.
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