Hua Xiaomai, ever since she entered the pavilion holding the platter, had maintained a slight smile, deliberately imitating Song Jingxi's demeanor, and tuned her smile to be very measured. However, upon seeing the gourmand burst into laughter after tasting the venison tenderloin she had prepared, her lips immediately stiffened, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"Old sir, is there a problem with this minced meat I made?" She looked straight at the old man's face, her voice wasn't loud, but it sounded extremely clear, and more or less, it contained a hint of dissatisfaction.
Such a tone and expression might have been a bit disrespectful, but as a chef brimming with confidence in her culinary skills, she wished for her dishes to be taken seriously. The old gourmand's smile only made her feel belittled.
