The large porcelain bowl was filled with cold noodles, topped with cucumber shreds, cilantro, a small pinch of beef shreds, and half a hard-boiled egg.
Zhao Meimei leaned over the bowl, took a sip of the soup; it was icy cold and sweet and sour, seemed to have a hint of orange or apple flavor.
Shi Yang handed the broken chopsticks to Zhao Meimei, "Eat up."
Zhao Meimei was eating cold noodles for the first time; at home, she always ate the noodles her mom made. Cold noodles had more texture, and they looked fun, plus they tasted good.
Zhao Meimei slurped down a few bites, and when she bit into a slice of cucumber, she frowned and pulled it from her mouth, placing it on the table.
Shi Yang glanced over, "Why aren't you eating the cucumber?"
Zhao Meimei swept her thin eyelids and pouted, showing a disgusted expression, "Cucumbers are not tasty."
