Chapter 26: A Small Shop at the Culinary Academy

“Xuan, are you sure this is really okay?” Lin Qingyu glanced back at Qin Zhihua, lowering her voice.

“It doesn’t matter. The two of us are here for our own reasons; we’re not here to be Senior Qin Zhihua’s followers,” Yun Xuan replied, shaking his head as he headed toward a small shop.

Indeed, this was only the main entrance of the Culinary Academy. The surrounding area boasted 108 shops, each owned by a top talent from the academy.

The shop Yun Xuan entered was simply called “A Little Shop.” The place was small and rather deserted.

“What will you have? We only serve egg fried rice here,” drawled a red-haired boy in a white chef’s jacket as he caught sight of them.

“One bowl of egg fried rice is 136 yuan?” Lin Qingyu stared at the price on the wall, finally understanding the lack of customers.

Though Fangyu City wasn’t as expensive as Dongjing, these prices were outrageous.

It was all the same currency, yet this fried rice cost nearly ten times as much!

“We’ll have two bowls,” Yun Xuan said, glancing at the menu before pulling out three bills and placing them before the red-haired boy.

“Please wait a moment.” The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of cash. He stood, heading for the kitchen, a completely different person now.

“Xuan, this is far too expensive! 136 yuan for a bowl of egg fried rice!” Lin Qingyu said, her heart aching at the cost.

“It’s alright. At the very least, I’ll learn a lot,” Yun Xuan replied, smiling faintly.

Could a bowl of egg fried rice costing 136 yuan truly be ordinary? Of course not.

A faint sizzle sounded, and an enticing aroma wafted out.

Outside, Dongfang Aoxue, just about to enter the Culinary Academy, paused. She looked toward “A Little Shop,” hesitated, then stepped inside.

“What a delicious smell. What is it?” Qin Zhihua’s stomach rumbled at the scent.

“Egg fried rice. Miss Qin Zhihua, please come with me,” said Mitsuki Sanchou, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the shop.

The two of them entered as well.

“Your egg fried rice,” the red-haired boy announced as he emerged from the kitchen, setting two bowls before Yun Xuan and Lin Qingyu.

The golden grains of rice gave no hint of the egg within. The aroma was so irresistible their stomachs began to growl.

“Golden fried rice?” Yun Xuan closed his eyes, separating out every nuance of flavor in his mind until he had nearly reconstructed a list of ingredients and the entire process behind this golden fried rice.

Such is the power of thought, one of humanity’s instincts—when magnified, it becomes a skill rivaling the gods.

Unable to resist, Lin Qingyu dug in.

“A simple fried rice, yet you handle the spices so deftly, stimulating the diner’s senses. Coupled with its appealing appearance, I would give this golden fried rice an eight out of ten,” Dongfang Aoxue remarked coolly.

“Thank you for the compliment. Senior Mitsuki Sanchou, may I ask what brings you to my humble shop?” the red-haired boy inquired, turning toward her.

“I’m just here to observe,” Mitsuki Sanchou replied coldly.

“Take your time, then. But if you wish to try my egg fried rice, that would be against the rules,” the red-haired boy added with a confident smile.

“What a pity...” Two voices spoke at once.

Dongfang Aoxue blinked in surprise, realizing Yun Xuan had spoken in unison with her.

“There’s nothing wrong with the fried rice itself; the issue is the spices. The combination is fine and quite even, but have you considered what the spices produce?” Yun Xuan opened his eyes, pointing to the bowl of golden fried rice he hadn’t touched.

“What do you mean? Spices enhance the taste of fried rice, obviously. Most importantly, they add aroma, and aroma is everything,” the red-haired boy scoffed.

“Oh? Then tell me, what’s left in the bowl after the fried rice is gone?” Yun Xuan gestured to Lin Qingyu’s half-finished bowl.

“Of course it’s oil...” The boy’s voice stopped abruptly, eyes widening.

“So you do know. I thought you might not,” Yun Xuan said with a smile.

“If you use less spice, it won’t be so greasy. You controlled the aroma, yes, but for something as simple as egg fried rice, there’s no need to overcomplicate things. How about it? Want to try my version?” Yun Xuan stood up.

“You’re a chef too?” The red-haired boy’s mouth hung open.

“Certainly. May I borrow your kitchen?” Yun Xuan asked with a smile.

“Go ahead,” the boy replied, a little unwilling, but he had to admit that Yun Xuan was right—he had complicated something simple, creating a problem with the fried rice.

That subtle greasiness might appeal to the average person, but for professional chefs, it was unacceptable.

“Zhihua, is he really just your junior?” Dongfang Aoxue asked.

“Yes. I had no idea he was so skilled in the culinary arts. It’s just a shame about that bowl of fried rice,” Qin Zhihua said, eyeing Yun Xuan’s untouched bowl.

“Not just skilled,” Dongfang Aoxue shook her head, watching the kitchen thoughtfully.

Mitsuki Sanchou frowned. To draw such conclusions just from sight and smell and to speak in unison with Dongfang Aoxue—could this young man really be that talented?

…

Less than five minutes later.

“Here’s your egg fried rice,” Yun Xuan announced, placing a bowl before the red-haired boy.

“The aroma of this golden fried rice is so faint...” The boy picked up a spoon, hesitant.

Before he could take a bite, a slender hand reached out, scooping a small bowlful.

“Hm?” The red-haired boy looked up to see it was Dongfang Aoxue.

She studied the fried rice, took a spoonful, and tasted it.

The boy did the same.

The next instant—

“Delicious!” the boy exclaimed in astonishment.

“This is a dish whose true flavor can only be appreciated once it’s in your mouth,” Dongfang Aoxue said, eyes closed.

“Exactly. The secret of this fried rice lies in the taste that reveals itself only when eaten. The stark contrast is also part of its appeal,” Yun Xuan smiled.

“A strong contrast—your idea is brilliant,” the red-haired boy realized, giving Yun Xuan a thumbs up in admiration.

“With skills like yours, could I join the Culinary Spirit Battle?” Yun Xuan asked, revealing his intention.

“The Culinary Spirit Battle? So you’re here for the Culinary Spirit title?” the red-haired boy replied with sudden familiarity.

“Yes. By the way, I don’t know your name yet,” Yun Xuan said, extending his hand.

“My name is Yamayama Haruto, but just call me Yamayama. This time, you’ll represent ‘A Little Shop’ in the competition,” Yamayama said, shaking Yun Xuan’s hand.

“I’m Yun Xuan. It’s an honor to represent ‘A Little Shop,’” Yun Xuan replied, intrigued by Yamayama’s aromatic cuisine.

“My name is Mitsuki Sanchou. Yun Xuan, I’m very interested in your cooking. Would you like to try one of my dishes?” Mitsuki Sanchou took a deep breath.

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