Republic of China, 1928: Starting from a Wonton Shop

As an apprentice of the chef at Dongxinglou, Sanpang was quite arrogant when it came to food.

Normally, he would eat his family's Shandong cuisine, which was all from the profits that flowed from the imperial court. But today at Li Ji's, facing this table of bright red and oily dishes, his tongue completely betrayed his principles.

Big Tiger grinned and served a large bowl of white rice: "Sir, please enjoy your meal!"

Ignoring Da Hu's mocking gaze, Sanpang picked up his bowl and scooped up a spoonful of Mapo Tofu with his chopsticks and spoon.

At this moment, the heat from the tofu dissipated slightly, and the red oil soaked into every piece of tender white tofu. The minced beef was fried until crispy and fragrant. Sanpang scooped a large spoonful and covered it on the rice. The red oil seeped into the rice grains. He stirred the rice thoroughly and ate a spoonful.

"Ugh!!!"

This isn't just eating tofu, it's practically eating meat! No, it's even more delicious than meat!

He didn't have time to speak, and reached for the pot of boiled pork slices with his chopsticks again.

The pork tenderloin slices were incredibly tender; they barely needed to be chewed before sliding down the throat, leaving a trail of fiery pleasure. The cabbage at the bottom was soaked in broth, and with one bite, the juices burst forth, a delightful collision of sweetness and spiciness in the mouth, making Sanpang's head ache with pleasure.

As for the braised pork, needless to say, I couldn't handle it after just the first bite. This braised pork doesn't use soy sauce, it relies entirely on the color of sugar. Sanpang knew that his master could do this too, but to do it like Li Ji, where every piece of meat is evenly colored and translucent, fatty but not greasy, melts in your mouth, and has a faint, slightly spicy aftertaste, that's too difficult.

Sanpang finished a bowl of rice in less than two minutes.

"Another bowl, please!" Sanpang put the bowl on the table, his face flushed and his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.

The surrounding diners let out a good-natured chuckle.

Sanpang paid no heed to any of it. Forget about face or missions; at this moment, nothing could compare to the desire to fill his stomach. He ate three large bowls of rice before letting out a loud burp.

"call!"

Sanpang patted his round belly, looked at the bare plate on the table, and suddenly felt a surge of despair.

It’s over.

How am I going to explain this to my master and the shopkeeper? Should I say that the kid's food is bad? But the way I looked like a starving ghost just now has already been seen by everyone around me. There are no secrets in this world, and it would be even more embarrassing if word got out.

But if we tell the truth,

Sanpang shuddered as he recalled his master's gloomy face.

"Have you finished eating, sir?"

Li Chunsheng walked over with a smile, holding a rag in his hand. He casually stacked the empty bowl in front of Sanpang and asked, "The taste is alright, isn't it?"

Sanpang blushed, took out the silver dollar that Manager Sun had given him from his pocket, slapped it on the table, and, too ashamed to ask for the change back, stood up and quickly walked out of the shop.

[System notification: The probe on the famous building is complete.]

[The host impressed the spy with impeccable culinary skills and, in full view of everyone, upheld the reputation of Li's Kitchen.]

[Rewards: Reputation Points +500, Shandong Cuisine Activated]

Dongxinglou.

Although it was past lunchtime, the place was still packed with customers, and waiters moved among the mahogany tables and chairs, carrying all kinds of exquisite Shandong dishes.

Inside a room in the backyard.

The shopkeeper, Sun Dehai, was holding a purple clay teapot and sipping tea casually. Sitting opposite him was the master chef, Yan Desheng.

"Old Yan, do you think that kid from Li's shop is really that capable?" Sun Dehai put down the teapot, his brows furrowing slightly. "I heard from Butcher Zheng that Li's shop has been bringing in more and more meat these past few days, almost half the amount we've been getting."

Yan Desheng snorted coldly, his face full of disdain: "Manager, you're being too cautious. What real skills could a self-taught person who started out selling wontons possibly have? He just relies on some heavy oil and spicy street food to fool those poor, unsophisticated people. What does Dongxinglou serve? That's official cuisine, for high-ranking officials and nobles. His so-called boiled pork slices sound like something from the common people."

"That may be true, but this momentum," Sun Dehai sighed, "is quite significant, with big names like Mei Lanfang and Feng Gengguang showing up to support us."

Just then, the curtain was lifted, and Sanpang, covered in sweat, squeezed in.

"Master! Shopkeeper!"

As soon as Sanpang entered, he quickly took off his hat, stood in front of the two men, and lowered his head, looking like he had done something wrong.

"You're back?" Yan Desheng had a bad feeling looking at Sanpang. "How was it? Did you find anything wrong with that kid's food?"

Sanpang swallowed hard, the spicy and savory flavor of the boiled pork still lingering in his throat. He felt bitter; how should he put it?

"Master...that dish..." Sanpang stammered, "...the cooking time...was actually not bad."

"Not bad?" Yan Desheng asked, somewhat puzzled. "What do you mean by 'not bad'? Does that mean it's just average? I knew it! What does a kid in his early twenties know about cooking techniques? What about the flavor?"

"The taste..." Sanpang's forehead was covered in even more sweat. He recalled the bright red braised pork, "The taste was indeed very oily and spicy, all chili and Sichuan peppercorn flavor, which masked the natural freshness of the meat."

That's true, Sichuan cuisine is all about the seasoning.

Upon hearing this, Yan Desheng revealed a smug smile and turned to Sun Dehai, saying, "Shopkeeper, you see, I told you, this is typical street food, relying on spices to cover up its flaws. This kind of dish is fine to eat occasionally for novelty, but eating too much will hurt your stomach and is not suitable for formal occasions."

Sun Dehai nodded, his expression softening slightly: "That's good. As long as he can't surpass us in skill, everything else is negotiable."

Just as the two were about to let the matter drop, Sanpang suddenly let out a loud burp.

"belch!"

The sound was particularly jarring in the quiet room, and with that burp, a rich aroma, a mixture of garlic, chili, and meat, burst forth from Sanpang's mouth, filling the air.

Yan Desheng and Sun Dehai both covered their noses at the same time.

"What's that smell?" Yan Desheng asked, frowning.

Sanpang was so startled that he quickly covered his mouth: "No...nothing, Master, it's just...I just ate a little too fast."

Yan Desheng, an expert, sniffed, discerning the lingering aromas in the air: "Sichuan peppercorns, chili peppers, fermented bean paste... and... is this the smell of beef? How can it smell so good?"

He suddenly stood up, walked up to Sanpang, and stared at his round belly and the red oil stain on the corner of his mouth that he hadn't wiped clean.

"You brat, how much did you eat?" Yan Desheng asked sternly.

Sanpang's legs went weak, and he knelt on the ground with a thud: "Master...I...I ate three big bowls of rice..."

"Three large bowls?!"

Sun Dehai almost dropped the purple clay teapot in his hand.

Yan Desheng was so angry that his mustache stood on end: "You went to find fault, and then you ate three big bowls of rice?! Are you a reincarnated starving ghost? If the food was really as bad as you said, could you have eaten three big bowls?!"

"Master! I...I was just trying to find out more clearly!" Sanpang protested. "Besides...and that dish is really weird! The first bite is spicy, but after the first bite you want a second, and after the second bite you want a third! Master! That kid! That kid has some weird skills!"

"Fine! Very well!" Yan Desheng laughed angrily. "You won't need to eat today or tomorrow!"

Sun Dehai remained silent. His businessman's intuition told him that if Li's Restaurant was not curbed, it would become a major problem in the future.

"Old Yan," a sinister glint flashed in Sun Dehai's eyes, "this kid's momentum is really strong right now, we need to cool him down."

"Shopkeeper, what do you want to do?"

"What's the worst thing for someone in the restaurant business?" Sun Dehai sneered. "First, no people; second, no stock! He has the people now, but the stock..."

Sun Dehai looked at Sanpang: "You just said that there were a lot of slices of meat in his dish?"

"Yes, it's all top-quality pork tenderloin and pork belly, and the portions are very generous."

"That makes things easier." Sun Dehai stood up, straightened his long gown, and said, "After I finish this busy period, I'll go to the market in a few days. I refuse to believe that with the reputation and money of our Dongxing Restaurant, we can't deal with him. Once we cut off his healthy meat, let's see what he'll cook with!"

For the next few days, Li's Restaurant continued to be a booming success.

Qi Baishi's inscription and Mei Lanfang's patronage made Li's Restaurant famous far and wide.

On March 6, 1929, the day of Jingzhe (the Awakening of Insects), spring thunder began to rumble, and all things began to grow.

The celebrity effect is terrifying in this era; even before Li Ji opened, people were already waiting outside.

Inside the store, Li Chunsheng was leading everyone in making final preparations.

"Da Hu, check all the tables, chairs, and benches. Make sure nothing is loose."

"Mr. Wu, do you have enough change?"

"Sister-in-law, have all the vegetables in the kitchen been chopped?"

Li Chunsheng was giving instructions methodically, but he was not at ease.

Business is booming.

The food was so good that it exceeded the capacity of the small shop, and most of those who lined up in advance were people of some status, which meant that many ordinary people couldn't find a seat when it was time to eat.

These past few days, Yunniang has been so tired that she can't straighten her back; Lao Wu hasn't said anything, but he's getting old and it's not working out either; and Da Hu is even worse, the soles of his shoes are worn thin.

Most importantly, the store was too crowded.

There are only five or six tables, not enough to seat so many people.

Yesterday at noon, two diners who didn't know each other almost got into a fight over a seat. In the end, Da Hu managed to break it up by taking advantage of his physique. Some people even bought a bowl of boiled pork slices because they had been waiting for too long and squatted on the doorstep to eat it, making it inconvenient for people to come and go.

"Boss, shall we open the door?" Da Hu stood at the door, holding the bolt, and asked as he turned around.

"open!"