B

An unpleasant smell floated into my nose as the bowl of fried stinky tofu （臭豆腐）settled onto my grandmother’s dinner table. I immediately sat back. The smell ruined my appetite, and I pushed the dish away.

“It’s supposed to stink. Just give it a try!” my grandmother said.

Holding my breath, I unwillingly took a bite. To my surprise, the tofu beneath the fried skin was warm, soft, and mouthwatering. Since then, whenever I visited my grandmother’s house, I would rush to the kitchen for the stinky tofu with excitement. Thus, stinky tofu became more than a household tradition. It became my favorite dish.

Along with the stinky tofu, I would meet my Uncle Chan on every visit. As an immature boy, I never understood my uncle’s condition of Down syndrome（唐氏综合症）.He was an unfriendly and terrible creature in my eyes. He constantly walked around the house, talking to himself. Whenever he was within view, I would run away in fear.

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https://wenku.baidu.com/view/9d5ed29b17fc700abb68a98271fe910ef12daeaf