"Sis, what do you want to eat? I'll cook for you."
"Spicy crawfish, okay? Spicy trio? Fried baby potatoes? Purple sweet potato cakes? Spicy sticks? Seafood soup? Sashimi?"
She used questions, not declarations.
Little seventh appeared like a ghost, with a blank expression:
"Young Madam, anything spicy, I'd suggest avoiding it. Sashimi, being raw, hasn't been disinfected to kill the parasites in it—could cause trouble."
Qin Miaomiao was already used to it but still snorted coldly:
"Then what am I allowed to eat?"
"I've already prepared your menu. Please strictly follow the menu from now on, and absolutely no ordering takeout."
Qin Miaomiao: …
"I only ordered takeout secretly once, and in the end, it ended up in your mouths anyway! My roast duck, my glutinous rice balls, my spicy crawfish, my barbecue—gone, divided among you guys. Did I say a word?"
Little seventh coughed:
