Chapter Fourteen: A Calamity to the Nation

At this moment, Li Can was already busy in the kitchen.

The sound of oil sizzling in the wok filled the air.

From an ordinary perspective, Shredded Pork with Garlic Sauce was a fairly common dish. That was precisely why Zhao Gang, upon hearing about the price change, chose to make a fuss over it, blowing things out of proportion. Had it been a more prestigious dish—such as Buddha Jumps Over the Wall or Coiled Dragon Eel—he might actually have backed down and simply watched events unfold.

Humans are creatures of habit, always feeling that the harder a dish is to come by, the more difficult it must be to cook. In truth, that notion is not entirely correct. In Li Can’s eyes, rare dishes simply require precious ingredients, longer cooking times, or more elaborate steps—they aren’t necessarily harder to master. Often, it’s the seemingly simple dishes that truly test a chef’s skill. From heat control to ingredient preparation, every detail is a matter of genuine technique!

Thus, no matter the dish, the key lies in the chef’s artistry.

And Li Can’s skill far surpassed the price of any dish he made—his potential was simply immeasurable.

Gripping the wok’s handle, Li Can tilted it, ensuring the oil coated the entire base before pouring it out and adding fresh vegetable oil. This subtle technique prevented the shredded pork from sticking to the pan, and the discarded oil could be reused for seasoning the wok next time—nothing went to waste.

When the oil reached seventy percent heat, he lifted the wok from the flame and added prepared scallions, ginger, garlic, dried chili, and Sichuan peppercorns to release their fragrance. These aromatics were delicate and intolerant of high heat—one careless move and they would turn black and bitter, spoiling both the color and the taste of the finished dish.

With his mastery of heat, Li Can could have kept the wok over the fire, but since it was his first time using this kitchen, he was unfamiliar with the placement of spices and utensils. If he fumbled for even a moment, he might miss the perfect timing.

So, to be safe, he chose to take a few extra steps.

The dry aroma of the spices began to waft through the air as Li Can added the red chili bean paste.

“The color of this bean paste is lacking—I’ll have to make my own sometime,” he thought.

Using the rounded back of his spatula, he spread the bean paste, waiting for the red oil to emerge before adding the marinated pork strips to stir-fry.

Throughout the process, Li Can was acutely aware of his hands, making sure there was no lingering weakness. When he confirmed their strength, he couldn’t help but smile.

This was his peak state.

To be honest, if he wished, he could now return to the Imperial Court and reclaim his lost glory.

But what purpose would that serve? Merely to let the Imperial Court use him again?

Li Can’s mindset had changed. He wanted to build his own culinary kingdom and set his own standards for gastronomy.

In the wok, the pork strips quietly changed color. Li Can added shredded green bamboo shoots and wood ear mushrooms, stir-frying them together, then poured in the prepared garlic sauce. Once the flavors melded, he quickly reduced the sauce over high heat and plated the dish.

Peering through the curtain toward the main hall, Li Can’s lips curved into a faint smile.

…

In the dining room, just three minutes earlier, the space had been filled with clamor and noise. Now, however, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Whether Zhao Gang and his group or the onlookers, everyone lowered their voices, exchanging glances full of uncertainty as their gazes fixed on the two tables of newcomers who had suddenly appeared in the restaurant.

Su Rui was nervously pouring tea for the guests, worried that any slip on her part might diminish their impression of the restaurant and disrupt their meal, causing trouble for Li Can.

This was a war fought without smoke or fire—the challenger Li Can against all the restaurant owners.

No, more accurately, it was a clash between new rules and the old order.

The scale was small, but the significance was immense.

“Boss, just leave the kettle here. We’ll help ourselves, no need to trouble you,” a pretty young woman said, taking the kettle with the utmost politeness, leaving Su Rui feeling out of place.

These guests were exceedingly young, stylish, and courteous. The men were handsome, the women lively and charming; their air was subtly at odds with the old street.

Look closely and you’d see that most of them held the latest model phones, their accessories uncommon and perhaps quite valuable.

What surprised Su Rui most, however, was the presence of a girl so striking one could believe she’d stepped straight out of an ink painting. Her features were exquisite, lips rosy and teeth white, skin fair as snow, and her frame delicate. Glossy black hair cascaded to her waist; every smile and frown outshone everyone around her.

Her friends clustered around her like stars around the moon, playful banter bringing a shy blush to her cheeks.

Su Rui was a woman herself, but faced with this bewitching beauty, she couldn’t help but feel powerless—a beauty even other women might envy.

Su Rui remembered her well—not just for her looks, but because she’d been the first to step into the restaurant. It was her casual request—“Boss, I’ll have an order of Shredded Pork with Garlic Sauce”—that had, unwittingly, dealt Zhao Gang a stinging blow on Li Can’s behalf.

“She really is a little angel, helping others. I only hope Li Can’s cooking won’t let her down,” Su Rui prayed silently.

On the other side, having recovered from his initial embarrassment, Zhao Gang regained his composure. He adjusted his breathing, straightened his collar, and, surrounded by several portly restaurateurs, approached the guests.

“Hello, beautiful ladies and gentlemen. My name is Zhao Gang, head chef of Flaming Kitchen.”

Though Zhao Gang greeted everyone, his extended left hand was directed unmistakably at the beautiful girl, and he made certain his signature gold watch was on display—a display of crude ostentation.

The young guests looked slightly taken aback, but a strapping young man quickly reached out to shake Zhao Gang’s hand, saving the girl from any awkwardness.

“Brother Zhao, why don’t we talk about this later?” Su Rui, knowing full well what Zhao Gang was up to, hurried to intervene.

“Miss Su, this is not something that can be put off. We’re all in the food business—we must answer to our conscience,” Zhao Gang replied righteously.

“How amusing. We’re just here for a meal—what does conscience have to do with it? I’m actually curious to hear your reasoning,” the young man replied, and the others showed no intention of stopping him.

Since the guests had spoken, Su Rui, though anxious, could say no more.

Zhao Gang shot Su Rui a frosty glare, thinking her ungrateful—if only she’d sided with him from the start, things wouldn’t have come to this. But then again, if not for today’s drama, he’d never have known that the old street had gained a beauty a thousand times more stunning than Su Rui. Truly, a feast for the eyes!

“What a pity I couldn’t touch that little hand. Tsk.”

Reluctantly withdrawing his left hand, Zhao Gang addressed the group, “Ladies and gentlemen, let me say this: I didn’t want to disturb your meal, but as a man of conscience, I must warn you—this place is a scam!”

“A scam?”

The guests exchanged glances, then broke into meaningful smiles.

(To be continued…)