[Comprehensive Yingmei] What kind of experience is it like to take online classes in Gotham?

I go to bed at nine o'clock in the evening, and I have to wake up at three o'clock in the morning to go to class. Isn't it strange to wake up feeling hungry?

So is it okay for me to take my mobile online class to get something to eat when I was in class?

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I woke up early in the morning and went to class hungry. I walked around the room twice. I searched the room and found nothing to eat. Then I remembered that the snacks I usually hoarded were all in the small study.

The saying that staying up late leads to unresponsiveness is absolutely true-look at me now I am stupid.

I struggled between being hungry and going out to get some snacks, and after my stomach protested with a "grunt" sound again, I put on my earphones and my phone, and I was going to go to the small study to get some snacks to deal with. My mind is as empty as it is now belly.

Yi Ruth at three o'clock in the morning: an empty-headed little fool.

Wayne Manor at this point is quiet, and the corridors are lit with dim wall lamps used to guide lighting at night.As soon as I stepped out of the room, I was quickly aroused by the cold air of the winter night with a layer of goosebumps on my skin.

Sleepy and silly, forgetting that it is winter now.

My room was fully heated when I was sleeping, and I was fearless in my suspender pajamas, even forgetting that I was still in the cold season of winter.

I can only fly back to the room in two steps and dig out my long down jacket to protect my warmth.

Putting on a warm down jacket, I can pass one, two, or three rooms without turning my eyes, and go straight to my small study with plenty of snacks.

Then I paused as I passed the stairs going downstairs.

The kitchen is downstairs.

——Since they’re all out, why don’t you go to the kitchen to get something to eat?There seemed to be a voice in my head saying this to me.

It's not that I want to steal Alfred's cookies, it's mainly because I'm hungry.I said so to myself.

Then, very smoothly, the goal of progress was changed from the small study to the small kitchen.

Cookies Cookies ~ Snacks ~ Snacks ~ Towards delicious snacks ~

Humming to a tune I made up, I opened the door to the huge double-door refrigerator in the kitchen.

Then fell silent.

…the cookie does, but it’s still a lovely bubbly dough right now.There are also small snacks, but it is a pie with blueberry filling to which I am allergic.

Uncooked dough, blueberry pie that died in situ, and other raw materials will only become delicious food after being processed by Alfred.

How to choose?

NONONO, adults don't choose any of them.

I dug out a large bag of vermicelli from the cabinet, and the dates were still fresh, plus the tomatoes, eggs and lettuce in the refrigerator-do it yourself and get enough food.

The vermicelli packaging is printed in Chinese, and it should be one of the special products that my mother sent over during the Chinese New Year.By the way, it was specially sent to Alfred.My mother said that my father's cooking skills are super bad. It's not a question of whether the food he cooks is edible, but that he must contact the fire rescue to let him enter the kitchen.

Is it really that bad?I don't know, anyway, my dad never cooked in front of my eyes.

Tomatoes are cut into thick slices, and two eggs are broken up in a bowl-one has to say, the red eggs are really beautiful, and the yolks are round and super cute. It’s a pity that I want to eat tomato egg noodles today, otherwise I will fry a poached egg That's where this lovely homemade egg belongs - add some salt to the egg wash and wash some lettuce.

The teacher's voice in the earphone suddenly faltered into a strange sound, and then completely disappeared in my earphone.

Uh... the teacher's network card is offline.

Here I would like to praise the network of Wayne Manor, it is really super invincible and smooth!

After the teacher's lecture stopped, the little noise in the surrounding environment naturally became obvious.

Someone is talking outside.

I poked my head out of the kitchen, and the sound outside stopped abruptly.

——My dad Dick Jason Tim and the four of them looked at me who suddenly appeared.

"Dad? Are you still asleep?" I wiped my hands, turned on my phone and looked at the time: 03:30 in the morning.

They didn't speak, and I blinked and suddenly remembered: "Ah, Dad, you have a banquet tonight? Is it going to be held until three o'clock in the morning?"

As soon as the words fell, Dick quickly took over the conversation: "Yes! Bruce and Tim drank some wine at the banquet, the driver has already left work at this point, and Gotham is not safe at night, Jason and I will pick them up together return."

"Did you run back from Bludhaven to pick up Dad? Dad is too worrying..." I said.

"It's okay." Dick said stiffly, "I'm on vacation tomorrow."

I nodded and prepared to go to the kitchen to continue cooking noodles.

"Are you cooking noodles? Add me." Jason carried the red bucket-like hood he wore the last time I saw him, and followed me into the kitchen.

Then I don't know how it developed into a situation where everyone eats supper together.

A polite question turned into a sincere invitation if you want to have something to eat together. Sorry, I shouldn't forget that this is a foreign country with something to say!

"So can you all accept tomato and egg noodles? Are there any taboos?" I asked them.

"You can make whatever you want, they are not picky eaters," Dad said.

Of course other people are not picky eaters, because the most picky eater here is you, Dad!

I still remember how baby Bruce, who refused to eat vegetables and milk every day, acted like a baby to Alfred by all means in order not to eat food he didn't like.

Saying "please" to Alfred with his beautiful blue eyes full of sincere pleading emotion, who could say no to Baby Bruce?Dear housekeeper can.

He would look at my dad with disapproving eyes, and put the fresh milk or vegetable juice on the tray firmly in front of my dad, and then say to him: "I hope that after I bring it out from the kitchen, it belongs to me. When your lamb chops were served, I could see that you had already finished the healthy drinks carefully prepared for you by the old housekeeper."

"After all, if someone doesn't drink, I'm sure he'd like to try a healthy green salad. Are you right, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, yes, Grandpa Afu is right." At this time, I will look at my father with hope, expecting him to say no to Alfred bravely, and then I can inherit my father's little Lamb chops.

Hee hee hee I'm so bad.

Usually, though, Dad would take a deep sip of the "healthy drink" in his glass and let my wishful thinking fail.

This is a very, very ordinary daily clip of my dad’s picky eaters. Grandpa A Fu racked his brains to make his dad eat healthily, and he was fighting wits and courage with him every day.Although fresh milk and broccoli are indeed unpalatable, my dad is indeed a picky eater.

Of course, I just complained quietly in my heart that my dad is a picky eater, because as far as the picky eater is concerned, I am not much better, but my picky eater did not show it, and my dad did not resist fresh milk. so serious.

My dad has many old injuries, probably caused by his love of extreme sports for ten years, right?Alfred staring at his healthy diet every day is naturally also for the recovery of his messy injuries, right?

It feels more like a battle of wits and courage between Dad and Grandpa Afu to refuse food that he doesn’t like. He doesn't like to eat food that is good for the body, and Dad can't refuse Grandpa Afu's request.

While I was thinking about it in a mess in my head, Tim asked at the door: "Do you need my help?"

My wandering thoughts were interrupted by Tim's voice, and I nodded and said loudly, "Need, need! How much do you want to eat? I don't know how much you eat."

"How much is this noodles cooked?" He glanced at the noodles rolled into a small ball in my hand, "Based on the instant noodle cakes, one person needs about two noodles. It's enough to eat at night." It's not good to be too full."

"OK." I gestured, "Understood."

I was in charge of cooking the noodles, Jason was in charge of cooking, and Tim was in charge of washing the bowls for eating noodles.

I have to say that although Jason only knows a few Chinese cuisines, his scrambled tomatoes and eggs are really delicious—at least better than mine.

The kitchen is quite big, and it won't be crowded for three people to work on their own. My dad and Dick are waiting for food at the dining table outside.

But I don’t know if he thinks it’s not good for the child to be busy inside while he’s waiting for dinner outside, or what, Dad stood at the door and asked us, “Is there anything I can do?”

Dick was stopping my dad, "Bruce, Alfred banned you from his kitchen."

"When? I have no memory." Dad began to play dumb.

"Just after you microwaved food and blew up the kitchen not long ago," Jason pointed out without looking back.

So, it turned out that what my mother said was true.

I thought she was exaggerating to coax me to play.

"I'm a little curious." I made a little gesture, and then asked, "Dad put something in the microwave to cause the fried kitchen?"

He coughed lightly in embarrassment, trying to evade my question: "There are some things that cannot be put."

"What can't be put?" I also tried to get to the bottom of it.

"Metal fork." Dick ruthlessly and decisively exposed his father's bottom. "The microwave oven blew up and blackened the entire wall."

"And broke a set of Ah Fu's favorite tableware." Tim added.

"Pfft." I smiled unkindly.

"Then it really can't be blamed on Grandpa Afu for forbidding Dad to enter the kitchen."

At three o'clock in the morning, the lights in the kitchen of Wayne Manor were full of joy, everyone was laughing and laughing, and the only one who was hurt was my dad who was laughed at for frying the kitchen.