Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
As the lid of the Clay Pot rattled under the steam, the Smart Cooking Machine emitted a rhythmic grinding sound.
I stared at the swirling vortex of the eighth pot of detox soup, while Shen Yanbai's modified Molecular Cuisine device roared next door. Through the glass wall, I saw Lin Wanyi leaning in with a selfie stick.
“Teacher Shen, the Babies in the live stream want to know what the soul of New Wave Su Cuisine is!”
“Precision Formula,” he replied.
His profile, framed by Silver Wire Glasses, was illuminated by the soft light, as he precisely dissected the beef shank with a scalpel-like accuracy. “And a determination to eliminate outdated metaphysical traditions.”
A sharp pain shot through my hand as I carelessly lifted the Clay Pot lid, which rolled half a circle on the countertop. This soup, simmered according to ancestral teachings—“ignite at the hour of the Tiger and extinguish at the hour of the Monkey”—was supposed to have an aroma that penetrated deep into one's being. Yet at this moment, all that lingered in my nostrils was a burning sensation.
I tapped the edge of the Clay Pot three times with a Jade Spoon—this was the Scent Ceremony my grandfather taught me. Dipping the spoon tip into the broth and touching it to my tongue felt like licking a rusted metal sheet.
“Boss Su, do you want to try the Taste Sensor?”
Lin Wanyi had somehow leaned against the doorframe, her blush glowing with an Artificial Peach Color in front of the camera. Her fingertip traced over my cracked Coarse Pottery Bowl on the stove.
"Dear audience, send in those rockets and watch the fallen heir crash live!"
Suddenly, my smartwatch vibrated, and a microscopic imaging of my tongue appeared: the fungal papillae had shriveled into desert-like folds.
Mechanically, I scooped up the scalding soup and poured it down my throat. The burning sensation in my esophagus was oddly more reassuring than the numbness of my taste buds.
When Shen Yanbai burst in, I was just splashing the third spoonful of soup onto the live-streaming light, the flying broth exploding into a rainbow-colored sheen before the camera.
"Are you crazy?" he exclaimed, gripping my wrist with enough force to crush bones. The red light of the medical scanner swept across my throat. "Level two damage to your vocal cord mucosa—this is your way of preserving tradition?"
Lin Wanyi's scream echoed from the streaming room: "Oh my God! Teacher Shen's hand!"
Only then did I notice the blisters forming on the back of his hand from the hot soup, glistening like mother-of-pearl under the cold light. Seven years ago, when I had a fever, he had spent the entire night using those same hands to replace the damp towel on my forehead. Now, he clutched a Michelin review manual: "The Su Family Cuisine has been officially removed from the intangible cultural heritage list."
Suddenly, a piercing alarm blared from the cellar. I shook him off and dashed toward the group of Lao Jiao in the pouring rain.
The Smart Security System emitted a mechanical voice from behind:
"Unauthorized entry! Sonic dispersal activated!"
In an instant, the scent of Chen Pi exploded within my mind—
It was the first time I had smelled it in three months,
Yet it was accompanied by the warm liquid surging from my nostrils.
"Zhi Xia!"
Shen Yanbai's white coat blurred into a hazy spot amidst the rain.
I wiped my face,
My hands stained crimson, floating with tiny Chen Pi fibers,
Reminiscent of that snowy night when he gifted me the Jade Spoon,
The plum blossoms resting in the lines of my palm.
As the alarm of the Mountain Monitoring Device pierced through the rain,
I was measuring the cracks in the cellar wall with the Jade Spoon.
The Smart Security System flashed red above me:
"Safety level 0.7, immediate evacuation recommended!"
But what Grandfather taught me, "One spoon measures three inches," clearly indicated we had reached a critical point—
Comment 0 Comment Count