Chapter 902: Chapter 901: Fists the Size of Sandbags (Part 1)
Liu Ying’s "Lantern Festival" dish stood out among the seven identical dishes on the table for its remarkable charm.
What is the charm of a dish?
Just like a person, with poetry and literature, the charm of a dish also radiates from within. Simply put, we humans are mostly visual creatures. In this vanity-driven world, if a chef invests effort in the appearance of a dish, it naturally attracts attention.
However, among the seven Lantern Festival desserts on the table, purely based on appearance, dish number 1, Liu Lan’s creation, with its vibrant red and green colors, overshadowed the competitors.
Yet, everyone’s gaze remained fixed on Liu Ying’s dish.
This included Liu Lan herself, whose pupils narrowed as she stared at the number 7 small porcelain bowl. The sophisticated lanterns arranged overhead cast a haunting light downwards, causing the clear soup in the bowl to shimmer. Within that sheen, Liu Lan again caught a glimpse of the fleeting golden glitter she had seen earlier!
Not just Liu Lan, the venue was abuzz, waves of chatter spreading:
"Did you see it? Did you see it?"
"In that bowl, why are the plump Lantern Festival dumplings surrounded by gold? What lies within the soup?"
Ye Feizhou, Old Grand Duke Liu, and a group of Liu family elders had left their seats, standing around the judging table, pointing at the number 7 bowl.
Old Grand Duke Liu gripped his cane with one hand and stroked his beard with the other, examining the Lantern Festival dessert closely, within just ten centimeters.
"No filling?"
He suddenly inquired.
Liu Ying, seeing a crowd gathered across the table, nervously twisted her hands and responded quietly, "Yes, yes!"
"Please give me a spoon—"
Ye Feizhou gently requested her, and Liu Ying bit her lip, lowered her head, and handed over a metal soup spoon from her side. The camera switched to Ye Feizhou, who, as a Heavenly King Disciple, stirred the ceramic bowl with the spoon!
Swish!
Swish!
The calm surface of the soup was disrupted by ripples. The originally plump Lantern Festival dumplings beneath the clear soup suddenly donned a shimmering golden veil.
Silence blanketed the audience.
People gazed again at the bowl, where the white dumplings had astonishingly transformed into golden nuggets beneath the surface.
Ye Feizhou inhaled deeply, his hand shook, stopping the stirring motion.
An invisible, formless dragnet enveloped him...
The air grew heavy, perhaps because at that moment, various pastry delicacies simultaneously unleashed their essence, blending into a tumultuous flow of flavors. The air vibrated with a mournful hum, Ye Feizhou heard it, his expression drastically changed, thinking this was indeed some kind of sensory trap, as a mere whiff had already overwhelmed him.
Information flooded in!
"Ugh..."
Unable to resist, Ye Feizhou devoured a dumpling swiftly, chewing voraciously.
Thud!
It was as if a large hammer struck deep within his stomach.
It was merely a single dumpling.
Yet, his tongue felt as if it had sampled every noodle delicacy in existence at once—ramen, spaghetti, udon—and instantly relaxed into a reclined position, stunned!
"This flavor is imaginary!" Ye Feizhou marveled.
Next came an unusual scene.
A group of judges with scoring rights all simultaneously put down their bowls and spoons, reluctant to take a second bite.
Upon witnessing this, the venue erupted in boos, and female host Qi Qingyan handed a microphone to the first to regain composure, Ye Feizhou, and asked curiously, "After just one spoonful, stopping means your sensory experience with contestant number 7 Liu Ying’s creation was dreadful?"
"No!"
Facing the camera, Ye Feizhou’s close-up was projected onto the broadcast screen, appearing stern, "On the contrary, my evaluation of contestant number 7’s work is—"
"Excellent!"
Ah.
Booing turned into exclamations.
Qi Qingyan remarked with slight surprise, "Why?"
"It’s..."
His words were cut off by an outbreak of commotion.
Industry authorities in suits and ties poured in through the venue doors, led by a figure dressed in a chef’s attire—white on top, black trousers below—a ’Reserve Pastry King’. Wei Zhong held his chef’s hat, straightened his body, and strode directly onto the stage!
"Hmm?" Tang Yuqiong, watching the selection process with millions of viewers in the live stream, knitted her brows, "That’s Wei Zhong? Why is he dressed like a chef?"
Wei Zhong!
Zhu Qing instinctively reacted by turning to the young man beside her.
The young man, previously lounging with legs crossed, promptly lowered his feet flat and leaned forward slightly in his seat. His entire upper body inclined. His eyes focused solely on the Reserve Pastry King, oblivious to those beside him.
An expression of sudden excitement.
And the dangerous glint in his eyes.
Zhu Qing couldn’t help but mutter quietly, "This guy treats others as prey!"
"He’s here!"
In Jing Chu at the White Cloud Pavilion, Huang He sat before the television.
Imperial City.
Zhu Ji also set down an ancient cookbook, casting a shadowed glance at the screen on the study wall.
In the same major city, in an old courtyard, Xia Qing and Yan Qi, a pair of old friends, sat cross-legged on mats in a tea room. Yan Qi chuckled upon seeing Wei Zhong, neatly dressed, suddenly appearing in the camera shot, "Coming in strong!"
But Xia Qing’s expression was rather peculiar.
"Does this Wei Zhong know he’s a step too late?"
At the remark, Yan Qi burst into hearty laughter, "If it weren’t for Lan Fengxian’s tip-off, we might never have imagined that a passive, defensive lad would visit old Shu seniors first, asking them to host a culinary duel."
"Do you remember Brother Xia, Lan Fengxian’s phone call that day? He was completely shaken, hahaha!"
Recalling the call, Xia Qing couldn’t help but chuckle.
Lan Fengxian, in the midst of a bunch of old monsters, was known as the thousand-faced fox. Yet, this old fox was startled by his grandson, the tremor in his call deeply etched in Xia Qing’s memory.
Apparently, the lad truly frightened the old senior.
Yan Qi stopped laughing and shifted his gaze to a sword hanging on the tea room wall.
"This sword’s sharpness must be displayed for others to see."
"So..." Xia Qing slowly and quietly said, "Unsheathe!"
Feitian Pavilion.
Wei Zhong suddenly took the stage, accompanied by a group, with an aggressive aura, causing the audience to sense something amiss.
What’s happening?
Hostess Qi Qingyan found Wei Zhong’s sudden interruption of the selection process quite disagreeable. Such rude behavior shouldn’t be exhibited by a reputed Reserve Pastry King in the culinary world. She frowned and reminded, "Chef Wei, it’s currently the Liu family’s scoring and ranking phase. Since you lack scoring rights, please take a seat in the guest section!"
Wei Zhong merely glanced at the hostess and ignored her.
"Old Grand Duke Liu, may I say something?" Wei Zhong appeared to ask, but he didn’t wait for a response, pointing at the Lantern Festival dessert on the table.