Emerald and jade steam

There's a saying in our home town, "It's not good for dumplings," and for me eating dumplings is a very ritualistic thing. When I was a kid, I didn't eat dumplings much, because it's more troublesome. I had to chop up meat pie, noodles, skins, and eat them in an hour or two. It's not like now, it's easy to use a machine, it's done in half an hour if you want to eat it, but it's always a little less. I don't eat meat when I'm a kid, and I always have to pack dumplings with two pies: cabbage mushrooms and egg fans. Mom says you're the only one who eats it. All right, sit on a little chair and pick one by one, and look green. Mother and face, Daddy chopping meat, dinging as a sound, the meat is fine, the face is almost awake. Then you cut your face and your growth strips into little pieces, and your skin, and you wrap one more, like a rolling pig in a big basket. When Mom cooks dumplings, Dad's going to masturbate. It's our home for dumplings. It's fine garlic for sour oil, vinegar, raw, fragrance, and sour for sour dumplings. Every time I eat dumplings, the whole family mobilizes and spends half a day, so after a busy and long wait, I get the best taste in my mouth, I miss the way a family is wrapped up in dumplings, my mom's skin, my dad's bag, my brother and I are all together, and that's the best time I remember