As Yang Ping just reached the Institute's entrance, his nose was caught by a rich aroma, a barbecue scent, with cumin, chili flakes, and the roasted fragrance of oils bursting at high temperature.
"Professor!" Manstein and Weber appeared with sizzling, oily lamb skewers in their hands, cumin still on their lips.
Manstein said, "It's a newly opened lamb barbecue shop, authentic Xinjiang folks, the lamb is airlifted from Altai..."
Weber mumbled, "Research is a marathon, not a sprint. Supplementing protein is for better marathon running. Want to have a few skewers?"
Yang Ping didn't have a chance to speak as his phone rang. Xiao Su's message: "Groceries bought, come back quick!"
He glanced at the lamb skewers in their hands. He used to have a strong interest in these things, his mouth watering at the sight. Now, it felt just so-so, had his appetite changed?
"Try a few?" Weber opened the bag.
Yang Ping shook his head: "You eat! You eat."
