15
The Culinary Master Competition (Part Two)
Those who could make it to the final selection all had some real skills.
Setting aside the exaggerated exclamations from off-site like “That’s the young master of XX restaurant” or “That’s the youngest daughter of XX famous chef,” the performances of the contestants alone were enough to make Jiang Qi doubt whether this script world was a proper ancient setting or a ancient version of “Cooking Master Boy.”
Was slicing white radish into pieces as thin as cicada wings, making them arc perfectly through the air and land accurately stacked on a plate something that could happen in reality?
Was a kitchen knife flashing cold light, dismembering a whole chicken into eight parts in the blink of an eye, with drumsticks, wings, and breast meat all sorted and arranged neatly something that could happen in reality?
Was cutting tofu so fast that the knife left afterimages, turning a small piece of tofu into fifteen thousand shreds, each fine enough to thread a needle, something that could happen in reality… Hey, this actually is something that can happen in reality.
Isn’t this Wensi tofu?
Finally seeing a normal contestant, Jiang Qi was extremely moved and hurried to the female contestant’s side, closely watching her movements.
After shredding three pieces of tofu, the unnamed contestant lifted the separated tofu shreds from clear water, drained them, and placed them on the cutting board.
A cold light flashed, and by the time Jiang Qi could see clearly, the originally scattered tofu on the cutting board had been tied together with bean sprouts into a molting phoenix in a spreading-its-wings posture.
Jiang Qi: ?
Is this something that could happen in reality?
This script shouldn’t be categorized as food-themed—it should be categorized as fantasy.
A suddenly appearing molting phoenix naturally attracted the attention of the spectators. One knowledgeable onlooker exclaimed: “Phoenix Singing in Spring!”
“It’s actually Phoenix Singing in Spring! This is the unique skill of the Wei family from Quzhou. Could this young lady be Wei Ruyue, the only daughter of the Wei family?!”
Jiang Qi turned to look at Wei Ruyue, never expecting such a coincidence—this was actually the protagonist of the script he had read.
Wei Ruyue was making the phoenix’s tail feathers, shredding cucumber and carrot, dipping them in starch water and attaching them to the phoenix’s tail. In just over ten minutes, the originally molting phoenix became quite impressive. Wei Ruyue then used other vegetables similarly for decoration, cutting a small circle from pumpkin and slowly carving it. After watching for two minutes, Jiang Qi realized she was carving the phoenix’s eyes.
Just as dotting the eyes is most important when bringing a dragon to life, the same applies to a phoenix.
Wei Ruyue’s dish attracted the attention of most people present. Even Huang Fugui was drawn to Wei Ruyue, approaching to observe the phoenix she was making and marveling at it.
The male contestant behind Wei Ruyue, who was about the same age, clearly saw her actions and snorted disdainfully, muttering “showing off” under his breath before continuing with his own work.
Jiang Qi looked toward this male contestant and found his knife skills were equally extraordinary.
Though without overly flashy movements, the vegetable and meat shreds he cut were all uniformly thick, his knife work both fast and steady—clearly possessing genuine skill.
In a way, watching someone cook is no different from watching someone paint—both processes are immensely enjoyable.
Skilled chefs creating dishes are like artists creating paintings; both are producing art, especially since these chefs all seemed to carry some fantasy elements.
Jiang Qi wanted to see how many dishes would glow when they were finished.
Gradually, Jiang Qi became completely engrossed in watching.
When the youngest contestant, a boy who appeared to be no older than ten, began stretching noodles with the fluid grace of a rhythmic gymnast performing with ribbons—smooth, unbroken, and visually captivating—Jiang Qi started seriously pondering whether a Kitchen God truly existed in this world.
Otherwise, it was hard to explain why these people made cooking feel like cultivating immortality.
The onlookers, both inside and outside the venue, were as enthralled as Jiang Qi. Huang Fugui even forgot his role as the final competition’s host and rushed to the edge of the stone circle to ask the spectators what dishes the contestants were preparing.
“That girl in black chopping filling is Cao San Niang. She runs the most famous bun shop in the capital. I tried her beef buns when I visited the capital two years ago—absolutely incredible!” said one bystander.
“Truly remarkable, impressive!” replied Huang Fugui.
“A mere bun seller can’t possibly outshine the rest? Do you know who the youngest contestant is? He’s the youngest son of Zhou Yuchu! Zhou’s pastry skills are so divine even the imperial consorts praise them endlessly. Though only nine, his son has already inherited some of his father’s genius. The gods favor prodigies—I bet Zhou’s son will win this time!” argued another spectator.
“Wow, amazing, amazing,” Huang Fugui chimed in.
“Who are you to talk? Have you even tasted Zhou Yuchu’s pastries to claim he’s inherited his skills? What can a mere child cook? See that uncle in the innermost circle? That’s Wang Yidao, the renowned chef from Xuzhou! He made a name for himself at seventeen and is sure to take the crown today!” retorted a third onlooker.
“A famous chef! Impressive, impressive.” It was clear Huang Fugui’s vocabulary of praise was somewhat limited.
Soon, the periphery turned into a battleground of fans, each fiercely defending their favorite contestant. Only Huang Fugui listened with wide-eyed admiration, exclaiming “impressive” at every claim.
.
The first to complete her dish was Wei Ruyue.
Her Phoenix Singing in Spring could be considered a cold dish, stunningly presented. Thinly sliced vegetables formed the phoenix’s feathers, and after being drizzled with her secret transparent sauce, the creation looked so lifelike in the sunlight that it seemed ready to take flight from a distance.
The dish’s visual appeal was undoubtedly a plus. Seeing Wei Ruyue raise her hand to signal completion, Huang Fugui eagerly stepped forward to inspect it. He cautiously circled the phoenix, murmuring praises.
“Incredible, truly incredible. I’ve never seen such exquisite knife skills—it’s as if an artist painted this phoenix,” Huang Fugui marveled, almost afraid to approach the dish.
“Mr. Huang, about this dish…” Wei Ruyue began.
Huang Fugui clapped his hands, summoning two attendants who carefully carried Phoenix Singing in Spring toward Wei Xian Restaurant.
“The dish must be presented to the Kitchen God for tasting. I’ll have someone escort you to the resting area to wait, have some tea, and once all dishes are completed, the results will be announced. I’ll go inform Wei Xian Restaurant first. Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Wei.”
Wei Ruyue nodded and followed the attendant to the resting area.
There was still half an incense stick’s worth of time left.
Jiang Qi observed each contestant’s dish, noting that none of them looked like food that could possibly come from the mortal world.
There was an immortal realm dish made from various vegetables shaped into a lotus bud about to bloom. According to the onlookers, when eating it, one had to pour chicken broth over it, making the lotus blossom while pouring.
There was a demon realm dish that appeared as a black mass but was said to be incredibly delicious, containing the flavors of pork, beef, and lamb all at once.
Even the buns were flawless in every pleat, rumored to be like encountering a peerless beauty when eaten—a delicacy from the demon realm.
But there was nothing from the mortal realm.
Once the time of four incense sticks had passed, whether finished or not, all the chefs present adhered to the competition’s ethics and stopped what they were doing. Even for unfinished semi-finished products, Huang Fugui had his assistants take them to Wei Xian Restaurant.
“Everyone,” Huang Fugui struck the gong again, and the crowd quieted down. He continued, “The competition has ended. As for the results, the Old Culinary God will decide, and you will know soon. It’s getting late now, so why don’t you all disperse and go home for lunch?”
Only when Huang Fugui said this did Jiang Qi realize the competition had been held in the morning. With two hours of competition time, it was now exactly noon, with the scorching sun overhead. In another half hour, it would be time for lunch.
Hearing Huang Fugui’s words, the onlookers cooperatively dispersed, excitedly discussing the grand spectacle of the competition.
All the contestants had already gathered at the rest area. Huang Fugui walked over, first clasping his hands in salute to everyone, then said with a smile, “Masters, the Old Culinary God invites you to Wei Xian Restaurant.”
Wei Ruyue was the first to stand up, clearly confident in her work today. “Let’s go.”
Everyone followed Huang Fugui to Wei Xian Restaurant.
On the first floor of Wei Xian Restaurant, eight tables were set with thirty bowls of steaming green vegetable noodles.
The noodles were simple—freshly hand-pulled white noodles, two small green vegetables, and a perfectly cooked soft-boiled egg on top that would ooze golden yolk when poked with chopsticks. There was nothing else.
Compared to the dishes everyone had just made, these thirty bowls of green vegetable noodles seemed pitifully plain.
Everyone was astonished and puzzled, but at Huang Fugui’s gesture, they sat down, somewhat bewildered, and stared at the bowls of green vegetable noodles before them.
Jiang Qi was also confused. What did this mean?
A participation reward?
“May I ask, where is the Old Culinary God?” Wang Yidao, the oldest among them, cautiously inquired. “Can the results be announced now?”
“I am the Culinary God,” Huang Fugui said with a smile.
The entire room was stunned.
Not only were those present too shocked to speak, but Jiang Qi also hadn’t expected Huang Fugui to be the Culinary God.
To put it bluntly, Huang Fugui’s reaction during the competition—finding everything novel and exciting—hardly seemed like that of a Culinary God.
Huang Fugui had long anticipated everyone’s reactions. Whether their first response was surprise, delight, or doubt, he smiled and watched them all, remaining unchanged from start to finish.
“When I, Huang, was young, I was just a peddler roaming the streets, earning a meager living by selling goods. My wife worked as a maid in a wealthy household, and we had no elders at home. With no one to care for our young son, I would make him a bowl of green vegetable noodles every day before heading out, adding an egg when we had spare money.”
“Later, I was fortunate to meet a benefactor and became prosperous, living as a wealthy idler. Yet, my son’s favorite dish remains the green vegetable noodles I make.”
“I’ve been making green vegetable noodles for my son for over twenty years, and now I make them for my grandson too. There’s no special technique to this bowl of noodles—as you can all see, it’s just an ordinary bowl of egg noodles.”
“Six years ago, the son of the town’s restaurant owner got into trouble and urgently needed money, so I took over his restaurant. Originally, I planned to just hold onto it until he had the money to buy it back. But one day, I suddenly thought it was a waste to leave such a large restaurant unused, so I renamed it Wei Xian Restaurant and opened for business.”
“At the start, I couldn’t hire a chef, so I took on the role myself. Since I only know how to make green vegetable noodles, Wei Xian Restaurant only sells green vegetable noodles.”
“Strangely enough, every customer who tried the noodles praised them endlessly, and gradually, the restaurant gained a reputation. I kept a low profile simply to avoid trouble, but the fame spread wider and wider, until eventually, I was hailed as the ‘God of Cookery.'”
“All of you are culinary talents from across the land, and I’ve just witnessed your skills—they far surpass mine. I, Huang Fugui, only know how to make one dish: green vegetable noodles. I don’t deserve the title of God of Cookery, and I have nothing to teach you. If I were to share any insight, it would be that every time I make noodles, I think of my son and grandson enjoying them. Back when I was a traveling peddler, no matter how hard or exhausting it was, thinking of my son made it all bearable.”
“So, I, Huang Fugui, would like to ask all of you for a favor: please help me keep the secret that I am the so-called God of Cookery. I’ve already shared the secret of making these noodles with you. From today onward, each of you is a successor of the God of Cookery. I thank you all here.”
Everyone was stunned by Huang Fugui’s words. Only Cao San Niang asked, “I heard that Wei Xian Restaurant originally only opened before lunchtime. May I ask why?”
“Oh, that.” Huang Fugui smiled sheepishly. “It’s because my little grandson loves the green vegetable noodles I make. I have to hurry home at noon to cook them for him.”
Cao San Niang was also taken aback.
“Any other questions?”
No one spoke.
Huang Fugui cupped his hands in salute to the crowd. “Everyone, I must return home to cook noodles for my young grandson, so I’ll take my leave now.”
“Please, everyone, try the green vegetable noodles that made me famous. If they get cold, they won’t taste as good.”
A flash of white light.
Jiang Qi returned to reality.