Chapter 3

Xi Mi had booked a budget room on the ground floor. It didn’t have air conditioning, so she slumped over the windowsill with her tongue hanging out from the heat.

The window wasn’t high; sitting inside, her chin rested right on the sill.

Across from her were the inn’s luxury suites, standalone little villas equivalent to presidential suites in a five-star hotel. Right outside her window was a flagstone path, which guests staying in those villas had to walk down, passing right by her window.

As dusk settled, lanterns lit up around the ancient town’s courtyard, giving the inn an even richer historic charm at night.

Once her phone was fully charged and turned back on, Xi Mi lazily pulled it out to scroll through Weibo. Her comment section was buzzing, and her follower count was growing rapidly, finally breaking a hundred as it rose from 99 to 199.

Xi Mi snapped a quick picture of the courtyard and posted a Weibo update.

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Successfully ran away from my wedding. The inn has a nice atmosphere. Had Qingdong River Seafood Noodles this afternoon. 【Burp】 So full.”

The photo happened to capture the villa opposite her, framing a string of Chinese lanterns and an old banyan tree. The traditional architecture paired with the ancient tree and lanterns was truly gorgeous; even through the screen, one could feel the quiet serenity of the inn and the charm of the ancient town.

Below, the comments rolled in:

– 【Xiao Niqiu】: If you didn’t run away from that wedding, every vegetable in the world would look down on you, okay? (Nose-picking emoji)

– 【Huajia Huanghuacai】: I knew you weren’t the submissive type! Congrats on gaining your freedom. When are you posting a new recipe? The ancient town inn is so pretty… (﹃)

– 【Culinary Dao Alt Account】: Waiting for the recipe.

– 【Xiao Niqiu】 replied to 【Culinary Dao Alt Account】: Huh? Is it actually an alt account?

– 【Huajia Huanghuacai】 replied to 【Xiao Niqiu】: As if!! Have you ever seen anyone make an alt account named “So-and-so’s Alt Account”? That’s nuts!

Right, totally nuts! Xi Mi kept scrolling through Weibo, and then received a private message from “Culinary Dao Alt Account”.

– Culinary Dao Alt Account: “It’s me. Do you have enough money after running away? Is it hot? Is there AC?”

Xi Mi: “…” She hadn’t expected anyone to actually name an alternate account like that.

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “…It’s enough. Bastard Dao, showing unprovoked kindness means you’re up to no good.”

– Culinary Dao Alt Account: “Mm. So when are you updating with a new recipe? :)”

Xi Mi wracked her brain. Tangxi Ancient Town backed onto the Ling Jiang, which was rich in fish and shrimp, reminding her of an ancient dish. She had read about it in a cookbook from the Ming Dynasty and tried making it once; the taste was undeniably exquisite.

Ever since the Xi Family’s culinary techniques were designated as intangible cultural heritage, Old Man Xi’s standards for the dishes at Xi Family Restaurant had become ruthlessly strict. Because the hygiene issues of raw freshwater fish couldn’t be resolved, carrying a high risk of parasite infection, he never permitted Xi Mi to prepare it for customers, even though it tasted incredible.

Xi Mi had possessed a natural gift for cooking since childhood. Her tongue and sense of smell were extraordinarily sharp, which compensated for her slight build. Because she was thin and weak growing up, learning to toss a heavy wok had taken a toll on her, but over time, her tossing arm had grown firm and strong, so she no longer lacked strength.

At fifteen, she used this very dish, “Qiekuai^[1]“, to defeat First Senior Brother Lin Nan and become the head chef of Xi Family Restaurant. Because of her young age, Old Man Xi never let her interact with customers. Thus, outside patrons only knew that Xi Family Restaurant possessed a God of Cookery named Sanchuan, but none had ever met him in person, let alone realized that behind the domineering name “Sanchuan” was a frail young girl.

Holding her phone while sitting by the window, she recalled the recipe and carefully jotted it down in her memo app.

She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she felt as though someone across the way was watching her. Looking up at the villa opposite her, she saw that the lights on the ground floor were on, and someone seemed to be standing by the window. But they were too far away for her to see clearly.

Half an hour later, Xi Mi updated her Weibo.

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “One can never be too refined in dining, nor too meticulous in slicing^[2]. Qiekuai was an extremely popular dish in ancient China. Ancient people liked to fish by the water and slice up fresh fish right there, either into slices or fine shreds. My method, however, is slicing; shreds aren’t satisfying enough, whereas slices allow you to feast heartily. Fillet and debone fresh grass carp, slicing it paper-thin, then use paper to absorb the blood. Once shaped, blow on it with your mouth; if the slices flutter when you blow, you’ve succeeded. Finally comes the dipping sauce: spring onion in spring, mustard in summer. The preparation and way of eating are a bit like Japanese sashimi, but the texture is even better. Today, this dish is almost impossible to find because it tests a chef’s skill too severely.”

As soon as this Weibo post went up, Culinary Dao’s sightseer fans descended in droves.

– “Finally a recipe! So is our Culinary Dao going to make sashimi?”

– “It’s Qiekuai, not sashimi! Is it really okay to compare our ancestors’ dish to Japanese stuff, person above? For all we know, Japanese sashimi was learned from our ancestors’ Qiekuai!”

– “Wow, how thin does it have to be sliced to flutter when blown on? That knife work is insane! So does this mean we can see Culinary Dao show off his knife work in a video, and then blow on the fish slices with his mouth? Ahhh, does this mean we finally get to see Culinary Dao’s lips?”

This ancient dish was indeed a bit like sashimi, but in terms of preparation, it was far more interesting. The recipe seemed simple, but execution was extremely difficult; for instance, slicing grass carp as thin as paper put knife work and patience to the ultimate test.

Ying Quhe noted down the recipe.

Although difficult, it was worth a try.

*

The next morning, Xi Mi woke up bright and early to head to the ancient town square and watch the preliminary rounds of 《China’s Supreme Taste》. Though she had missed the registration deadline, she still wanted to try her luck. The culinary world was small, after all; perhaps she might recognize one of the judges.

When she arrived, a crowd had already gathered. Pushing her way through, she saw over a hundred chefs each commanding a station on temporarily built cooking platforms. Oil sizzled, and the atmosphere of the competition was intense and bustling.

Some chefs pulled noodles as if dancing, transforming thumb-thick strands of dough into needle-thin threads in the blink of an eye.

Other chefs handled their knives with lightning speed, carving intricate floral ornaments out of carrots in a flash to quickly plate their dishes.

In short, all sorts of flashy techniques were on display, drawing cheers from the surrounding crowd.

Xi Mi rubbed her nose and complained under her breath, “Are we watching a cooking competition or street acrobatics?” It was a classic case of all flash and no substance; she could easily pick out a whole host of flaws.

Her remark immediately drew a wave of contemptuous looks that basically said, If you’re so good, go up there yourself; stop running your mouth.

There were four judges at the panel, three of whom Xi Mi recognized. They were three famous gourmets from South, West, and North City. Those three had visited Old Man Xi before, so she remembered them.

Dressed in a sharp suit, the fourth judge sat a full head taller than the other three. With a broad frame and a commanding presence, he held a gold-plated pen, head down as he jotted something down.

Xi Mi glanced at the fourth judge’s nameplate: Ying Quhe. Understanding dawned on her instantly. She was no stranger to the name. He was the big boss of Ying Shi Pavilion, rumored to possess a razor-sharp tongue and a notoriously finicky palate. Any chef who could “survive” under him was considered a true warrior.

When it was time for the judges to taste the dishes, Ying Quhe finally put down his pen and looked up.

Set against the appearance of the other three judges, the moment he raised his head, he looked downright striking. The spectating crowd erupted into murmurs, and the group of young girls behind Xi Mi were the most excited. “The first judge on the left is so handsome!”

Xi Mi stole a couple more glances, thinking how small the world really was. Wasn’t he the crazy man who had asked her for noodles yesterday?

So he was Ying Quhe, the sharp-tongued gourmet she had heard about.

Looking at it this way, he really had just wanted noodles from her yesterday and had zero interest in her whatsoever. She had overthought things.

True to his reputation as a sharp-tongued gourmet, Ying Quhe struck fear into the hearts of all the chefs during the tasting, to the point where none dared present their dishes to him. A female chef led the charge, plucking up her courage to set a bowl of plain noodles before him.

Resting one hand casually on his papers, the sharp-tongued gourmet used his other hand to waft the scent up over the bowl. Failing to catch the aroma he wanted, a hint of disappointment crossed his face. Succinctly and decisively, he pronounced, “Pass.”

They were both bowls of noodles, yet why had last night’s bowl smelled so divine? Compared to that one, the bowl in front of him was utterly bland, not even worth tasting.

A plain bowl of noodles was the ultimate test of a chef’s skill. In a competition like this, if a dish didn’t even carry an inviting aroma, it was undoubtedly a failure.

The female chef was clearly indignant. “Mr. Ying, you haven’t even tasted this bowl of noodles. Is that fair to me?”

Compared to his previous cold stance, Ying Quhe seemed much softer. “You want fairness?” Using his bamboo chopsticks, he nudged the springy white noodles in the bowl as a faint curl of hot steam billowed up over two leaves of greens on top.

The green leaves were too dark and overly limp, clearly blanched for too long. A side ingredient treated like this would lose its natural crispness. If a chef couldn’t handle even the most basic vegetables properly, what right did she have to advance?

Bowing to pressure from both the judges’ table and the audience, Ying Quhe lifted a bite to his mouth to taste. His brow instantly furrowed.

The female chef’s heart leaped into her throat.

Setting down his bamboo chopsticks, Ying Quhe asked her, “Have you ever eaten pig slop?”

The female chef stood frozen in place. Ying Quhe’s voice turned stern. “Answer me.”

Under his sharp gaze, she stammered in near terror, “I-In answer to your question… sir, my family was poor back then, so I have.”

Ying Quhe continued, “Oh, then have you ever tried dog shit?”

The female chef shook her head.

Ying Quhe’s expression remained completely unbothered, his tone flat without a trace of emotion. “Mm. You can try it next time. Maybe it’ll taste even better.”

A critical hit.

Tears immediately welled up in the female chef’s eyes. Though she tried desperately to control her emotions, tears still trickled down her face uncontrollably.

Forget the female chef, even Xi Mi felt Ying Quhe had gone way too far.

And yet, good looks ruled supreme. Xi Mi heard the group of girls behind her muttering excitedly:

“He’s kind of handsome…”

“A sharp-tongued judge is actually pretty cool…”

Xi Mi: “…”

Forgive her lack of aesthetic appreciation, but she couldn’t see what was cool about this harsh judge at all. Sure, Ying Quhe was good-looking, but the way he scowled when he spoke reminded her of the stern German Shepherd at the end of her street.

Even when squatting in the corner panting with its tongue out, that dog always maintained an upright, solemnly unapproachable aura.