Zhou Xinyao kept stirring the noodles on her plate with a fork, her mouth pouting high up in the air, "So disgusting."
She said this without any regard for the people nearby and didn't bother to lower her voice.
The waiter quickly came over and asked with concern, "May I ask how you both feel about today's meal?"
Xia Lu looked up nervously, "It's quite good."
Her words were not entirely sincere; complaining loudly about the chef's cooking in the restaurant wasn't something she could easily express.
Zhou Xinyao didn't buy any of it, glowering at the waiter, "Terrible, this pasta tastes even worse than noodles boiled in plain water. Even I, who has never cooked, couldn't make something this bad. Has your chef lost his sense of taste today or what?"
Sitting opposite, Xia Lu felt utterly shocked. How could she speak her mind so bluntly? Xia Lu had never had that ability. Although the comment was exaggerated, there was something inexplicably admirable about it, wasn't there?
