Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

I've been so busy lately, getting home very late every day. Luckily, the Lunar New Year is almost here, just a few days away.

I beg my boss to give me n+1 extra hours every day. I'm so tired... My weekends are completely booked with work, sob sob.

Let's hang in there for a few more days!

Soon, the waiter returned with a tray. On the wooden tray, three round coconut charcoal cakes were stacked together, their edges grilled to a golden brown and crispy, with tempting little bubbles rising to their surfaces, emitting a rich, sweet aroma of coconut milk and a unique charcoal-grilled fragrance, steaming hot. Next to them was a large glass of chilled peach juice, a bright pinkish-orange, with fine droplets of water condensing on the glass, and a few pieces of chopped fruit floating inside—just looking at it made one's mouth water.

"Enjoy your meal!" The waiter put down the food and hurried back to work.

I picked up a coconut charcoal cracker, the scalding heat seeping through my fingertips. Gently breaking it open, a crisp "crack" filled the air, releasing a richer coconut aroma. The inside was surprisingly soft and white, as delicate as a cloud. I eagerly took a large bite; the crispy exterior and the soft interior created a wonderful contrast in texture. The rich, sweet coconut milk instantly filled my mouth, mixed with the unique, slightly smoky aroma of charcoal—simple yet satisfying. With each chew, I could taste the subtle sweetness and chewiness of the grains themselves. No need for extra sauces; this pure warmth was enough to comfort a hungry traveler.

Swallowing the sweet aroma, I then picked up the chilled peach juice and took a big gulp. The cool, sweet and sour juice, like a refreshing mountain spring, instantly washed away the slight greasiness of the coconut biscuit and the burning sensation in my mouth. The unique sweet and sour flavor of the peach, a blend of peach and berry, danced on my tongue, refreshingly invigorating. The small fruit pieces in the juice added texture and brought genuine satisfaction. A bite of hot biscuit, a sip of iced drink—the alternation of hot and cold, the interplay of sweet and fragrant flavors—this simple food combination brought immense happiness.

I slowed my pace, savoring the remaining coconut charcoal cakes in small bites, my gaze returning to the window. The night in Sumeru City deepened, the lights growing ever brighter. The clamor in the tavern seemed to settle into a calm rhythm; the scholars' debates turned into hushed discussions, the mercenaries' stories drew to a close, leaving only clinking glasses and satisfied sighs. Sitting here alone, enjoying the food and observing the myriad aspects of life, a strange sense of belonging quietly grew within me. Though merely a passerby, at this moment, the warmth, the bustle, and the aroma of food in the Lambad Tavern acted like an invisible cocoon, temporarily enveloping the weariness of my journey and the alienation of this foreign land.

The juice in my glass was empty, and only a few crumbs of coconut charcoal cake remained on the plate. I sighed contentedly, my body completely relaxing. I called the waiter to settle the bill, and he quickly cleared the plate, thoughtfully asking, "Would you like to pack some coconut charcoal cakes to eat on the road tomorrow? They'll taste good even cold!" I thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded. Watching the waiter skillfully wrap the remaining two cakes in oil paper, my longing for this bustling yet warm Lambad Tavern grew even stronger. Pushing open the wooden door, I stepped back into the cool night air. The warm light and noise of the tavern behind me gradually faded inside, but the satisfaction from the food and the warmth of home-cooked meals, along with the packed coconut charcoal cakes, were carried into the night of Sumeru.