At 10 a.m., it was clear that Seventh Uncle's patience had run out—this kitchen was his domain, temporarily granted to Lun Chuan, but he expected the latter to be considerate.
The oven gave a "ding" sound.
Wearing oven mitts, Lun Chuan quickly took out the entire baking tray, and before he could place it on the board, Seventh Uncle rushed him:
"Is it ready? Still not ready? The wood choppers outside have already finished, and you still haven't made a cake. You're just wasting time with these fancy tricks."
Lun Chuan remained good-natured: "Stir-frying the pork floss took a bit of extra time. But I made a lot, packed it all in a bowl over there and covered it with cling film. Seventh Uncle could use it when cooking."
Seventh Uncle scoffed dismissively: "These foreign things..."
He was still grumbling when Seventh Grandma chimed in with an "ahem": "Foreign this, foreign that, you always say it's simple, yet you've never made me a sponge cake to eat!"