Station number 2.
Li Han and Lan Chuhai had finished slaughtering and processing five ducks.
The plucked ducks, devoid of their innards, were laid out on the countertop, slightly gleaming.
The key wasn't in the ducks. Xia Yu looked over and caught Li Han, his head dripping with sweat, transporting five large Chinese Iron Pots.
"Such big pots, and he brought five of them all at once... what are they planning to do?!"
Xia Yu couldn't help but gasp softly.
He then glanced at the eight small clay pots in front of him.
Well, talk about being outmatched in presence!
Presence and such are, of course, just jokes; in a final, there's no room for useless ingredients or cookware. As Xia Yu stared intently, he saw Li Han placing each of the iron pots on a simple stove arrayed before him.
"Chef Lan!"
Li Han called back.
"Come help!" Lan Chuhai said softly, pointing to the stack of white bags beside the counter.
What are these?
