The Journey of an Ou

“Holding a steamed bun in my hands… There's not a drop of oil in the vegetables…”,Three men in leather jackets, reeking of alcohol, burst into the general store. The one in the front, with green hair and a mohawk, surveyed the shop, spitting out his toothpick.,The menacing muzzle of the gun pointed straight at Jack's red, bloated nose. The old man immediately raised his hands in surrender.。