A joke about how to mix noodles.

Let me give you a clip of a student's work:

A familiar smell of onions came. Looking at the golden color mixed with little green onion cakes on the dining table, my thoughts gradually filled the air with rice fragrance. ...

What kind of person is he?

Since morning, a ray of clear sunshine has just shot down and reflected on his white jacket. Although it doesn't have the same color as a cloud, it is so clean and simple. The skirt swung with his busy green figure.

I saw him neatly roll up his sleeves, knead the dough on the panel, and roll it out evenly with a needle, all at once. He carefully branded the cake into the saucepan instead of flipping it by hand. After more than ten years of tempering, the palm has been covered with a thick layer of calluses. I'm afraid it's an "iron sand palm" that has been practiced by the fireside for more than ten years. In a short time, his cheeks were covered with fine sweat, and his forehead with several wrinkles shone. As soon as the chopped green onion was sprinkled, the aroma came to my face, causing a commotion among the people in the queue, and only he continued to be busy without looking up.