Chapter 33

“You’re still young. Making it to the top three in this competition is already a huge success. Your profile has risen because of this match. Even if you finish last in the Chef King Championship, it won’t tarnish the honor of defeating all those top chefs along the way. Plenty of hotels and restaurants will be looking to sign you afterward. So no matter how this match turns out, you’ve already achieved your goal.” Ying Quhe stroked her head, just as he did with Ulrica.

For a moment, Xi Mi felt like a little Pomeranian with short erect ears and her tongue sticking out, eagerly awaiting her master’s affection. Sitting there like a dummy, waiting for Ying Quhe to pet her.

The white fur all over her body turned red from embarrassment. She lowered her head and kept twiddling her fingers. “I meant… how are you going to be my… tongue?”

“Am I not qualified to be your tongue? Not qualified to taste test your dishes? Hmm?” Ying Quhe leaned down, looking directly into her timid eyes.

Xi Mi panicked instantly and waved her hands. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant! You’re qualified, more than qualified! Ji Donglin said you became Executive Chef at twenty-one. Isn’t there a saying that the pupil surpasses the master? I want to… surpass you.” So I can be worthy of standing beside you.

Xi Mi swallowed the second half of that sentence.

Ying Quhe pressed her shoulders down, motioning for her to lie down and rest. “Surpass me? It seems you’re a few years too late. If you had met me before you turned twenty, you might have had a chance. Get some rest. Goodnight, Little Watermelon^[1].”

Li… Little Watermelon? Xi Mi froze, feeling as though she had fallen into a soft cloud of cotton.

She pulled the blanket over herself, leaving only her head exposed to look at him. “Good… goodnight… you… rascal.”

Her silly, obedient look brought a smile to Ying Quhe’s lips. Unstoppably, he flicked her forehead with his finger, then reached up and turned off the wall lamp above her bed.

The room fell into darkness. As Ying Quhe walked out and closed the door behind him, the only light remaining was the cool silver radiance of the moon outside the window. She clutched the corner of her blanket and let out a long breath, trying to calm herself down.

That sentence, “I can be your tongue,” left Xi Mi without a shred of sleepiness. She tossed and turned, clutching her phone.

On her Moments feed, everyone else’s life seemed so vibrant and colorful.

Nan Qing had posted a selfie alongside a picture of a new dish. Her long, straight black hair still made Xi Mi envious.

She liked the post and commented: “Your hair looks so pretty. (Cute/Emoji)”

Ying Shengnan and Tian Jian were bungee jumping in Macau, looking like they were having a thrill.

She liked the post and commented: “Stop flaunting your love. (Goodbye/Emoji)”

Ji Donglin posted a photo from a book signing event for his new book.

She liked it, but left no comment.

She felt a touch of envy toward their lives. When would her own life get on the right track? Doing what she wanted to do, being with the person she liked.

The soft blanket still seemed to hold Ying Quhe’s scent. She took a deep breath, and her little heart melted into a soft puddle of sweet cream.

Ji Donglin replied to her comment: “Goddess, why did you suddenly vanish while we were chatting on WeChat this afternoon? I called and no one picked up. Did you change your mind?”

Xi Mi replied: “No… I got sick and was feeling exhausted. I just turned on my phone.”

“Sick? Is it serious? I’m so sorry, Goddess! I’m out of town for book signings and can’t rush back to see you, but I’ll definitely be back on the day of the competition!!”

*

After lying in bed all day, Xi Mi felt limp all over, unable to muster any energy.

Even before the Chef King Championship officially began, online voting had already started, with people speculating who would claim the supreme title. Xi Mi was ranked second, sandwiched between the two master chefs.

Heading backstage at the venue, the three contestants competing in the Chef King Championship were gathered together for a briefing.

A representative from the Ying Group pushed open the door and stepped in. Her skirt suit perfectly outlined her shapely figure, radiating the composed yet alluring charm of a modern career woman at every moment. “Hello, everyone. My name is Lisa. Before registering, you all signed a contract that specified how the ten-million-Yuan signing bonus would be awarded.”

She handed out pre-prepared employment contracts to Xi Mi, Li Cheng, and Chen Ming, continuing, “This is an employment contract. You may sign it now. If you sign a forty-year long-term contract with us and win the championship, you can take home the ten-million-Yuan signing bonus, along with extra salary and benefits. You may also choose not to sign, but if you win without it, you will only receive a prize of one hundred thousand Yuan. So, how you choose is entirely up to you.”

The show’s sponsor was the Ying Group, whose underlying goal was to scout promising chefs for Ying Shi Pavilion.

Xi Mi carefully read the contract before her, marveling at how capitalists were truly capitalists, devouring people whole without spitting out the bones.

Buying out a chef’s entire life for ten million Yuan sounded wonderful on the surface, but in reality, it was a massive trap. After all, who could guarantee that the RMB wouldn’t depreciate in ten or twenty years?

As her mind conjured up the ugly face of corporate greed, Xi Mi found it hard to connect this with the warm and amiable Ying Shengnan.

This contract had little negative impact on the two master chefs from the Traditional Group. After all, they had less than ten years of working life left. Winning the championship and signing the contract was by no means a bad deal for them.

For them, it was a wonderful opportunity.

But Xi Mi hesitated.

Signing the contract meant her next forty years would be bought out for ten million Yuan, tying her whole life to Ying Shi Pavilion. How would that be any different from her past with the Xi Family?

Compared to selling her entire life, she preferred her personal freedom.

Xi Mi refused to sign.

The stage setup for the Chef King Championship was noticeably more refined than the previous round. The atmosphere in the venue was electric. A promo image of Little Xi Mi in a black chef’s uniform with her arms crossed appeared on the massive screen. Two stylized lightning strikes crashed down, splitting the display into three panels as master chefs Li Cheng and Chen Ming forcefully burst into the frame. The five large characters reading “Chef King Championship” dropped down from above to a heart-pounding sound effect.

Xi Mi walked onto the stage alongside the two master chefs from the Traditional Group as applause and cheers thundered through the auditorium like beating drums.

Once the three contestants were in position, the host gestured for the fans to quiet down. “I believe the three contestants on stage are even more excited than any fan in the audience. The competition that has lasted for two months is finally coming to an end. This Chef King Championship continues the sadistic twists of the last episode. Please look at the big screen for the detailed rules.”

The host turned and gestured toward the screen. “The ingredients for this round are limited: only potatoes, beef, rice, tomatoes, eggs, and tender chicken. As for seasonings, only two portions of salt are provided, and only one portion of oil. If you choose oil, you cannot choose salt. If one party does not select any meat, they will be allowed to select one extra vegetable. The order of selection will follow your ranking from the previous round. Master chefs, please choose carefully.”

Xi Mi stood there for a moment, her legs feeling weak. Hearing the rules of the competition, her palms broke out in a cold sweat.

She wasn’t sure if it was a cold sweat brought on by her physical weakness or sheer nervousness.

Chef Li chose potatoes, beef, and salt.

Chef Chen Ming chose tender chicken, oil, and tomatoes.

Xi Mi was left with rice, eggs, and salt. As the contestant who didn’t get any meat, she was given an extra tomato.

Host: “Today, our King of Chefs will be crowned, but right now, all three of our master chefs find themselves in a tight spot! Chef Li has no oil. Chef Chen has no salt, nor any jellyfish to extract salt from, and his only soy sauce leans on the sweeter side. Xi Xi Xi Mi got the fried rice set, but she has no oil! Will she be able to pull off another surprise today and create a delicious dish? Stay tuned after the commercial break!”

The livestream cut to a commercial break, sending viewers watching online into a flurry of table-slamming outrage:

“If Xi Xi Xi Mi wins this, I’ll write the character ‘Wang’ upside down^[2]!”

“There’s nothing to be done about it. Competitions are about strength. Xi Xi Xi Mi didn’t perform as well in the previous round, so getting stuck with late picks for ingredients fits the brutal reality of the game. Whatever happens, keep going! You’ve made it this far, Goddess, you’re the best!”

“Love to see it! The industry plant is finally getting thrown out. :)”

“The show’s hype machine has gone too far. A female chef this hideously ugly gets more hype than a celebrity. Heh, if you ask me, her next move is entering the entertainment industry, right? Say she doesn’t have connections? I don’t buy it.”

“…”

When the commercial break ended, the three chefs had already begun cooking.

Since he had no oil, Chef Li opted to braise his beef with potatoes. As the clay pot simmered slowly, the beef fat gradually rendered out. He then added the potatoes, stirred in the seasonings, and left the pot on low heat for the sauce to reduce until the potatoes were tender and soft.

Chen Ming took advantage of having oil by lightly steeping the whole tender chicken in soy sauce before dropping it into deep oil. He fried it until the skin turned golden and crispy, then lifted it out. Forgoing a knife, he tore the fried chicken into strips by hand and arranged them on a plate. Finally, he poured a layer of homemade tomato sauce over the top. The clash of the golden-crisp skin against the bright red sauce made one imagine the delectable sweet-and-sour crunch right through the camera lens.

Having ended up with the fried rice set but no oil, Xi Mi planned to make a plate of oil-free fried rice.

Getting sick had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Her appetite had been bland, and she had developed an aversion to oil. Lying in bed yesterday with nothing to do, she had remembered the oil-free fried rice her grandmother used to make for her whenever she fell ill.

To be able to cook the oil-free fried rice invented by her grandmother on television… Xi Mi felt that even if her journey ended here, she would have no regrets.

She blanched the tomato in boiling water, peeled the skin off easily, sliced it, and placed it in a flat-bottomed pan, adding a small bowl of water to simmer it. Once the tomato softened and broke down into a rich sauce, she poured in the beaten eggs, followed by the cold, hardened rice just as the liquid was about to reduce completely.

Though there was no oil in the pan, the remaining juice provided moisture, allowing her to toss the rice rapidly without it sticking immediately.

Just as the liquid finished evaporating and the grains were about to stick, Xi Mi flipped and tossed the wok with swift, practiced precision, leaving not a single grain of rice a chance to stick to the pan. She plated it immediately. Each grain of rice was wrapped in golden egg, offset by the vibrant red of the tomato. Under the high-definition close-up of the camera, the fried rice actually bore a magnificent beauty, like sunset clouds painting half the sky crimson.

This time, Ji Donglin in the audience wasn’t cheering or shouting. He sat woodenly in his seat, clutching Nan Qing’s arm, so nervous he almost forgot to breathe.

Nan Qing shot him a cold glare. “Brat, do you think you’ve lived too long?”

Ji Donglin snapped back to his senses and hastily pulled his hand back. “Sorry, sorry! I’m just too nervous.”

Nan Qing scoffed. “What does someone else’s competition have to do with you? Aren’t you taking this lapdog routine a bit too far?”

Ji Donglin argued back, his face turning red. “I’m nervous for my Goddess! What’s it to you, loser?”

Nan Qing sneered. “Heh. You’re so nervous, did Ying Quhe give you permission?”

“…Why would I need his permission?” Ji Donglin quickly caught her drift, leaning in to follow her gaze toward Ying Quhe.

Compared to Ji Donglin, Ying Quhe’s nervousness was far more concealed. One of his hands hung down, clenched tightly into a fist. Sitting in the front row, Ji Donglin and Nan Qing could clearly see the veins bulging on the back of his hand from the sheer force. Because it was hidden by the table, the camera couldn’t capture this shot. After tasting the dishes of the other two chefs, Ying Quhe’s fist had tightened even further. He took a deep breath, suppressing his nervous tension, and took a bite of Xi Mi’s fried rice.

As individual grains of fried rice danced on his tongue, his tense nerves suddenly snapped open, and his expression grew complex to those watching.

The other three judges looked at his expression with curiosity.

Judge Song Baoguo asked him, “Mr. Ying, with that look on your face… is the fried rice that bad?”

Ying Quhe didn’t say a word. He pushed the plate of fried rice toward him, covered his face with both hands for a moment, took a deep breath as he let go, and leaned back against the soft backrest, looking at Xi Mi with an intensely complex gaze.

When Song Baoguo tasted Xi Mi’s fried rice, his eyes suddenly reddened. He let out a long sigh without speaking a word and pushed the plate to the next judge.

Lin Hua, who tasted the fried rice next, maintained a relatively calm expression. But when the last judge, Yang Zong, tasted it, he couldn’t control his emotions, his eyes turned red, and tears streamed down his face.

Yang Zong wiped away his tears with his hand, took the tissue and microphone handed to him by the host, and offered his evaluation: “Regardless of the final outcome today, in my heart, the King of Chefs title belongs to Xi Mi. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a dish that moved me this deeply. Using food to evoke memories of our generation… young lady Xi Mi is truly extraordinary.”

He paused for a moment, took a breath, and continued: “People of our generation grew up in poor households. For us, the ultimate childhood delicacy was probably a bowl of egg fried rice made by our mothers. The rice was leftover rice steamed over a firewood stove, the egg was freshly gathered from the hen’s nest, and a handful of fresh scallions picked right from the field was scattered over it as it came out of the pot, aromatic and pure. I don’t know how the other judges feel, but Xi Mi’s plate of oil-free fried rice truly reminded me of my childhood, and of my mother who passed away so early.”

The host was a generation apart from Judge Yang Zong and clearly couldn’t relate to his feelings. She asked, “So, Teacher Yang, do you intend to cast your vote for Xi Mi?”

Yang Zong nodded.

The microphone was passed to Lin Hua, who gave a relatively calm assessment: “Xi Mi’s fried rice is indeed better than I expected. However, I believe the rice grains could have been looser and more separated. It’s clear that Xi Mi isn’t in top physical condition today; her tossing technique lacked full power, leaving a minor flaw. In comparison, Chef Chen’s dish was more refined, with crisp skin and tender meat. Therefore, I cast my vote for Chef Chen.”

Song Baoguo took the microphone. “Teacher Yang and I belong to the same generation, so I feel just as he does. My vote goes to Xi Mi.”

The host sighed with emotion. “Xi Mi currently has two votes, Chef Chen has one, and Chef Li has none so far. Among our four judges, Mr. Ying is the youngest, so he probably doesn’t share the same nostalgic bond for maternal cooking as Teacher Yang and Teacher Song. Tell us your thoughts.”

Ying Quhe took the microphone. Sudden relaxation after intense nervous tension caused his grip to falter, and the microphone nearly slipped from his right hand.

Suppressing his excitement, he tried to keep his voice calm. “The other judges have talked about the emotion behind the fried rice, so I’ll focus on its taste. What makes this fried rice truly commendable is that without using a single drop of oil, the rice grains achieve a texture that is both crispy and springy. This crispness isn’t crumbly; it’s a thin layer of fragrant, charred crust clinging to each grain. Furthermore, the charring of the rice is wrapped snugly under the colors of the egg and tomato. This creates a vibrant appearance while delivering the most satisfying mouthfeel. This fried rice carries the taste of home. It’s comforting, possessing a strength that is humble yet resilient.”

Applause erupted below the stage. Even Xi Mi herself was moved by Ying Quhe’s words.

When the host raised her hand and announced that she was the champion of this season’s 《China’s Supreme Taste》, she felt a moment of dazed disbelief.

After a brief silence, the audience erupted into a roar. Ji Donglin, Lao Qin, Xiao Ming, and Bald Boss stood up one after another, cheering wildly, while Nan Qing also rose to applaud her.

Amid the thundering cheers, Xi Mi looked toward Ying Quhe, her eyes suddenly stinging with tears.

She couldn’t believe she had won.

She had won…

Even though the temporary loss of her taste buds had stripped away her confidence, the moment she remembered Ying Quhe’s words, “I’ll be your tongue,” courage surged up from every corner of her being.

Receiving the spatula-shaped crystal trophy, Xi Mi held the microphone, slightly incoherent with emotion: “Thank you to the fans who supported me all along, thank you to the judges for your appreciation, and thank you… to my master.”

As the host announced the successful conclusion of this season’s 《China’s Supreme Taste》, Xi Mi cast a resolute look straight into the camera lens.

Old Man Xi.

I’ll use my strength to prove to you that I am truly worthy of walking the path of the God of Cookery.

*

As they left the venue, Ji Donglin thrust a bouquet of fresh flowers into Xi Mi’s arms. “Goddess, you were amazing!! Shouldn’t you cook a Manchu-Han Imperial Feast^[3] for us to celebrate?”

Xi Mi felt lightheaded, her feet floating as if she were walking on cotton. Holding the bundle of flowers, she nodded. “How about the day after tomorrow? At Boss’s shop.”

“Yay! I want Sister Xi Mi’s oil-free egg fried rice!” Xiao Ming bounced up with a cheer.

Ji Donglin interrupted, “Goddess, did you forget? The day after tomorrow is when you come home with me. You’re not going back on your word, are you?”

Everyone fell silent, staring at Ji Donglin with strange looks.

Bald Boss gasped, “Holy crap, you two have already progressed to meeting the parents?” He clapped Ji Donglin on the shoulder. “Not bad, kid! You’ve got good eyes. Seems like our little Xi Mi is quite a catch. Did you guys see earlier? That sharp-tongued judge Ying Quhe, the way he looked at our Xi Mi, tsk tsk tsk. Maybe he’s had a crush on her for a long time.”

Xiao Ming scoffed, “Heh, Sister Xi Mi would never fall for a guy with such a sharp tongue. Brother Ji Donglin is so great! Warm, caring guys are all the rage now! Cold icebergs are totally out of style.”

As everyone chimed in one after another, Xi Mi pulled out her phone and saw a WeChat message from Ying Quhe. She quickly spoke up, “Um… someone else is waiting for me outside. I have to go.”

“Hey, Xi Mi, you won the competition and you’re not going to celebrate with us?” Bald Boss called after her.

Xi Mi shook her head. “My cold isn’t fully cured yet, so I shouldn’t stay out so late. Besides… my master is waiting for me outside, so I need to hurry.”

Ji Donglin reminded her, “Don’t forget our promise then! I’ll pick you up the day after tomorrow in the morning.”

Xi Mi flashed an “OK” gesture at him, held her flowers, and hurried out through the back door.

Ying Quhe’s car was parked at the back door waiting for her. Seeing her approach, he pushed open the car door for her.

Xi Mi set the flowers on her lap and gently separated the crowded buds with her fingers. Ying Quhe gave her a disdainful look and asked, “How does it feel to win the competition?”

“Hmm…” She thought for a moment and said, “I was thinking that a hundred thousand Yuan really isn’t that much. After paying you back, I’ll only have a few tens of thousands left.”

Ying Quhe sounded slightly surprised. “You didn’t sign with Ying Shi Pavilion?”

Xi Mi shook her head. “No, I want freedom. I figure if it were you, you wouldn’t sign that contract of indentured servitude either, right?”

Ying Quhe stared at her, then chuckled after a long silence. “Right, you really have learned from the best.” He glanced at the bouquet of flowers and asked, “From a fan?”

“Ji Donglin.” Xi Mi looked down, fiddling with the flower petals, and added as something came to mind, “Actually, I quite like Ji Donglin. Although we haven’t become boyfriend and girlfriend yet, if things continue over time, I think I might fall for him.”

That single sentence left Ying Quhe feeling suffocated with irritation. No matter how he looked at those bright red roses, they were a complete eyesore.

After they returned home, in the time it took Xi Mi to go upstairs to shower and change, Ying Quhe had already prepared a delicious spread. Considering that Xi Mi hadn’t fully recovered from her illness, the food was light and mild, and he didn’t open a bottle of red wine.

While Ying Quhe went out to fetch a package, Xi Mi came downstairs in a little white lace dress. She saw a pure white gift box sitting on the dining table. The lace ribbon tying the box was tied in a neat bow, shimmering with specks of golden light under the warm yellow lights.

This gift box was identical to the one she had stomped flat back at Ying Shi Pavilion.

Unable to resist, she untied the bow. Opening the white box, she found a heavy mahogany case inside with a lock forged of pure gold and a small key provided. Utterly curious, Xi Mi unlocked the golden lock. With a click, the wooden box popped open.

Inside was neither a dress nor jewelry. Lying on the orange-yellow silk padding was a traditional Chinese kitchen knife. Its polished blade reflected the golden sheen of the yellow silk, and the handle was engraved in small golden seal script reading “Xi Mi”.

Ying Quhe walked into the dining room holding the package. “Do you like it?” he asked, casually opening his package.

The postal package had no sender listed, and even the recipient’s name was blurred beyond recognition. Thinking it contained important documents, he opened it, only to find a household register and ID cards inside.

Xi Mi ran her hand over the hilt of the blade, its unique and exquisite carvings captivating her. Her eyes sparkled as if filled with a sky full of stars as she looked up to ask him, “This blade is really wonderful. How did you…” come to think of giving me such a special gift?

The rest of her question died in her throat, cut short by the sight of the ID card in Ying Quhe’s hand.

Ying Quhe was also stunned for a moment. He handed the ID card to her, his throat dry and his voice slightly raspy. “You’re only nineteen?”