Chapter 21: Good Heavens, It’s a God

The study was deathly quiet.

Suddenly, her little nose twitched.

A faint, heavenly aroma drifted in through the crack in the window.

"Huh?"

Niannian set down her book, slid off the high chair, stood on her tiptoes, and leaned against the windowsill, sniffing intently.

It was Daddy’s scent!

Although it was different from what she had smelled before, she was certain this was the smell of Daddy cooking! It was fragrant and warm, making her feel incredibly safe.

A sweet smile bloomed on Niannian’s little face.

Daddy said it would be soon, so it would definitely be soon.

...

About an hour passed.

For the people waiting anxiously outside the kitchen, this hour felt longer than a century.

The bewitching aroma not only failed to dissipate, but grew richer, more complex, and more unbearable by the second.

Master Wang had lost count of how many cigarettes he had smoked; the floor was littered with stubs. His expression had shifted from initial gloom to shock, then to numbness, and finally, to a state of near-devotional awe.

He didn't need to look anymore.

Based on this unprecedented, world-defying fragrance, he knew he had lost.

He had lost completely. He had lost, and he was convinced of his defeat.

That young man was no mere novice.

He was a true, reclusive, god-like chef!

Just as everyone was on the verge of being driven mad by the scent, the intercom in the kitchen suddenly crackled to life.

A flat, emotionless young male voice emerged from it.

"The dishes are ready. Send someone in to bring them out."

The voice was not loud, but it struck everyone’s ears like a thunderclap!

Uncle Zhong reacted almost instantly. He lunged toward the intercom, his voice trembling with excitement: "Ye... yes! Mr. Chen! We’re coming right away!"

He turned to the eyes glowing with hunger behind him, took a deep breath, and shouted with all his might:

"What are you all standing there for? Quick! Prepare to serve the dishes! Be careful! If anyone breaks a single plate, I’ll see to it that you’re kicked out of the Lin family immediately!"

With that, he took the lead and strode toward the kitchen door.

His heart was hammering against his ribs. He had a strong premonition: he was about to witness a miracle of gastronomy that would go down in history.

He reached out and, with a sense of near-religious reverence, slowly pushed open the kitchen doors that had separated heaven from the mortal world.

The door opened.

A fragrance a hundred times more potent than before, almost tangible in its intensity, erupted outward!

Like a tsunami, it instantly swept over everyone present.

In that moment, everyone's mind went blank. They felt as if they were hallucinating; every imagination of what was "perfect" had been embodied by this scent.

Uncle Zhong was the first to barely recover from the impact. He stumbled, catching himself on the doorframe to keep from falling to his knees.

Struggling against the urge to bow and worship, he looked inside the kitchen.

Then, he was petrified.

His pupils contracted to the limit. His mouth fell open, wide enough to swallow an egg. His face was etched with a level of shock he had never experienced in his life!

He saw it.

On the massive stainless steel counter in the center of the kitchen, four dishes and one soup were set out quietly.

A "Squirrel Mandarin Fish."
A "Boiled Cabbage in Clear Broth."
A "Longjing Shrimp."
And a "Yangzhou Fried Rice."

Could these even be called dishes?

These were works of art!

"Clang!"

A crisp sound shattered the deathly silence.

It was Master Wang. The cigarette butt in his hand had fallen to the floor without him noticing.

"A... a miracle..."

"This is food... this is true food..."

The chefs behind him stood ashen-faced, their bodies swaying.

This was no longer a matter of being outmatched in technique. This was a dimensional strike. It was a god’s ruthless judgment upon mortals.

Chen Yu wiped his hands, tossed the paper towel into the trash, and turned around slowly. Seeing the scene, his lips twitched involuntarily.

What the hell, why were they acting like this just because of some food?

But recalling how poor the culinary standards were in this world, he accepted it and said:

"Why are you kneeling? Are you not going to serve it?"

Uncle Zhong jolted back to his senses. He didn't have time to help up Master Wang or pay attention to the dazed chefs. He swallowed hard.

"Serve! Yes! Mr. Chen! We’ll serve it right away!"

He turned to the group of still-frozen chefs and roared in a harsh, breathless whisper:

"What the hell are you all staring at? Didn't you hear Mr. Chen? Serve the dishes! Use your lives to serve them! If anyone spills even a drop of broth, I will make your whole family disappear from Donghai City!"

The threat could not have been heavier.

The chefs shivered, finally shaking off their immense shock.

Master Wang also regained his wits. He scrambled to his feet, his face flushed a deep liver-color. He rushed to within three steps of Chen Yu and knelt down again, this time prostrating himself completely.

"Master... Master Chen!"

"Please... please take me as your apprentice! I, Wang Defa, have been cooking for forty years, and only today do I realize I haven't even touched the threshold of a kitchen! Everything I made before... that... that was slop for pigs! I beg you, Master, have mercy! Let me follow you—even if it’s just to wash vegetables or scrub dishes, I’d be willing!"

With that, he began to kowtow repeatedly.

The scene stunned everyone. Wang Defa was a titan in the Donghai culinary world! Countless five-star hotels had failed to entice him out of retirement, yet here he was, like the lowliest apprentice, kneeling before a young man just for the privilege of washing dishes?

However, Chen Yu merely glanced at him.

"I have no interest in taking apprentices, and I don't need anyone to wash my dishes."

He stepped around Master Wang as if bypassing a stone bollard on the roadside and walked straight out of the kitchen.

As he passed Uncle Zhong, he paused and added:

"That pot of chicken soup is for the old man. Make sure he drinks it while it’s hot."

With that, he left without looking back, leaving behind a floor littered with shattered pride and a group of so-called master chefs who looked like wooden chickens.

Uncle Zhong watched Chen Yu’s departing figure, a tempest raging in his heart.

Arrogant!

So arrogant!

Yet, this arrogance felt so entirely justified!

Uncle Zhong didn't have the luxury of thinking too much. He immediately directed the recovered chefs to carefully place the four dishes and the soup onto a specialized insulated serving cart.