Qiao Nian didn't know that the person she had randomly met on campus actually knew Fu Ge.
She had already arrived at the supposedly authentic Mongolian hot pot place.
"Miss Qiao, we're here."
The car drove into a quaint alley and stopped outside. It was Saturday, and Ye Wangchuan seemed to have taken her to a tourist attraction, as the narrow alley was full of bustling tourists. All sorts of different accents could be heard, along with many small shops of 10 square meters on both sides of the road. These shops sold porcelain, antiques, and beaded necklaces for 10 yuan.
She thought it would take a long time to get to the place he wanted to eat at. Who knew that after walking for a while, they stopped in front of a courtyard.
In the front street, the chatter of bustling tourists was very loud. A distance of one street away was a winding path, quiet and leisurely.
A big sweet-scented osmanthus tree was also planted in front of the door.
Osmanthus flowers were most fragrant in October, and its faint scent could be smelled all along the way.
Seemingly familiar with this place, Gu San said with a smile, "Miss Qiao, this is the place. This restaurant's Mongolian hot pot soup is very delicious. It can be said to be the most authentic in Beijing. Usually, diners need to reserve a table half a year in advance, and most
people can't eat it."
Looking up at the eaves of green brick and green tiles in front of her, Qiao Nian said leisurely, "Mm-hm, I can tell."
Yuan Yongqin had bought her a courtyard house in Beijing.
It cost nine digits.
The location was not as good as this, and it was not as big either.
A Mongolian hot pot store in such a place was basically a private kitchen.
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