As Tian Hao left the grand hall, the weight of expectations and criticisms clung to him like a damp robe. His father's disappointment, Elder Hua's disdain, Liang Chen's cold contempt – each a barb tugging at his fragile composure. Tian Hao clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his calm facade, each emotion gnawing at him like a persistent itch. Yet, beneath the surface, a spark of defiant excitement flickered. This disapproval, this precarious position, ironically offered a kind of freedom. He was already a failure in their eyes. What did he have to lose? He could forge his own path, even if it was paved with indulgence.
The aroma, a symphony of simmering spices and roasting meats, grew stronger with each step, guiding him like a fragrant beacon. He entered the kitchens through a wide archway, the scene before him a chaotic ballet of culinary creation. Large cauldrons bubbled furiously over roaring flames, their contents exhaling fragrant steam that danced in the flickering light. Nearby, woks sizzled as chefs expertly tossed ingredients, sending bursts of aroma into the air, the flames licking the sides with a fierce intensity. The rhythmic clang of cleavers against chopping blocks punctuated the air, a percussive counterpoint to the sizzle and hiss of ingredients meeting hot oil.
Amidst this organized chaos, Wu Zhong, or Fatty Wu as he was known, held court—a figure Tian Hao recognized clearly from the fragmented memories of the previous Tian Hao, memories filled with the scents of savory stews and the echo of Wu Zhong's booming laughter.
Wu Zhong, a young man whose girth rivaled his culinary skill, stood with a broad stance, his hands confidently on his hips, a twinkle in his eye as he presided over his domain like a benevolent Buddha. His round belly strained against his apron, a testament to his dedication to the art of gastronomy. His cheeks, flushed from the heat of the kitchen, shone with a healthy sheen, and his eyes twinkled with an almost childlike glee. Despite his size, his movements were surprisingly deft, his hands working with the practiced ease of a master puppeteer as he stirred a bubbling pot, the ladle moving with a graceful precision that belied its size.
As he worked, Wu Zhong winked at one of the junior cooks nearby, his voice full of mock seriousness. "You see, young one, true mastery lies in making even a simple stew taste like a celestial delicacy. Watch and learn!" The junior cook chuckled, shaking his head, clearly used to Wu Zhong's antics.
Wu Zhong turned as Tian Hao entered, his eyes widening in surprise before lighting up with a joy that seemed to radiate outwards, warming the entire kitchen. "Young Master Tian Hao! What an honor to have you grace my humble kitchens with your presence!" he exclaimed, wiping his flour-dusted hands on his apron with a flourish. His voice, warm and booming, held a note of genuine pleasure, a clear indication that this was a man who found joy in his craft.
Tian Hao grinned, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, a hint of unease still shadowing his face, the echoes of his earlier performance lingering. He was still acclimating to this new skin, this new life of unearned privilege. The gnawing hunger in his belly, however, grounded him, a reminder of a basic need that transcended social status and cultivated power.
"Fatty Wu," he began, his tone aiming for playful confidence but tinged with an awkwardness he couldn't quite shake off, "I require a feast. Something spectacular. Something to truly indulge in."
Wu Zhong, his smile broadened into a beam that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He seemed oblivious to the slight hesitation in Tian Hao's voice, focused only on the prospect of culinary creation. "A feast, you say? Well, Young Master, you've come to the right place! Consider it done!" He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook his ample frame.
With a sudden burst of energy, Wu Zhong began barking orders to the other chefs, his voice ringing with an infectious enthusiasm. "Bring out the finest ingredients! The snow pheasant eggs! The cloud mushrooms! The jadeheart lotus root! Today, we cook for Young Master Tian Hao!" The kitchen did not erupt into activity as Wu Zhong had hoped. Instead, most of the chefs continued with their tasks, some throwing skeptical glances his way, clearly aware that Wu Zhong was merely a junior cook.
With no one heeding his commands, Wu Zhong sighed and rolled up his sleeves, giving a dramatic shrug before grinning. He exaggeratedly gestured towards the ingredients. "Ah, I see everyone is too busy to handle the masterpiece we're about to create. Looks like it's up to me, this humble master, to save the day!" He winked at Tian Hao, his voice taking on a self-deprecating tone. "You know, Young Master, sometimes true genius is only recognized when there's no one else around to steal the credit."
Amidst the subdued chaos, Wu Zhong moved with the confidence of someone far more important, determined to create a feast worthy of a young master. He expertly sliced vegetables, their vibrant colors a feast for the eyes, the rhythmic thud of his knife a steady beat against the cacophony of the kitchen. He seasoned meats with a delicate touch, his fingers sprinkling spices with an almost magical precision, the fragrant dust swirling in the air like miniature constellations.
Tian Hao found himself captivated by Wu Zhong's passion. He watched, fascinated, as the chef worked. There was something admirable in Wu Zhong's enthusiasm and confidence, despite his position as a junior cook. The air crackled with energy, not just from the heat of the stoves, but from the sheer joy Wu Zhong exuded as he created his culinary delights. Tian Hao found himself drawn into conversation, the initial awkwardness fading as they discussed the nuances of flavor and the art of balancing textures.
"You know, Young Master," Wu Zhong said, his eyes twinkling, "there's something deeply satisfying about watching someone enjoy a dish you've crafted. It's not just food—it's an experience. Seeing that first bite, that look of delight—it makes all the effort worth it."
Tian Hao nodded thoughtfully. "I can see that. I can imagine that kind of satisfaction. Even the simplest meal, when done right, can bring a sense of comfort and joy."
Wu Zhong's face lit up. "Exactly! Food is more than just sustenance. It's a journey for the senses, a celebration of life itself!"
Tian Hao smiled, feeling a genuine connection with the chef. "It's all about savoring the moment, finding joy in the simplest of things."
"A fine philosophy, Young Master," Wu Zhong said with a grin, gesturing grandly with his flour-dusted hand. "And one I am proud to contribute to."
Tian Hao nodded, feeling a genuine connection with the chef. In Wu Zhong's words, he found an echo of his own newfound philosophy.
When the feast was finally ready, Wu Zhong proudly presented the dishes as if they were fit for royalty.
The table was covered with an impressive spread of dishes, each crafted with care. There were platters of roasted duck, the skin crisp and golden, alongside dishes of glazed pork, the aroma of honey and spices filling the air. Steamed buns with soft, fluffy exteriors sat beside a bowl of fragrant soup, the broth rich and inviting. Fresh fruits added a touch of sweetness to the meal, their vibrant colors making the spread look even more appealing. Tian Hao was genuinely impressed; while it wasn't an emperor's banquet, it was still more than he had ever had the pleasure of enjoying.
Tian Hao's fingers twitched towards the nearest platter, his mouth watering as he took in the sight before him. He picked up a piece of roasted duck, the skin crackling delicately as he tore it apart, the succulent meat practically melting in his mouth. The flavors exploded on his tongue, a complex blend of savory and sweet, the spices tingling his senses. He followed it with a spoonful of fragrant soup, the warmth spreading through his chest, chasing away the lingering chill of his earlier anxiety. He ate with gusto, savoring each bite, each flavor, each texture.
As he indulged, he felt the PINA Method at work, a subtle hum of energy building within him. It was a gentle warmth at first, a faint tingling in his core that intensified with each mouthful. It was exhilarating, this realization that something as simple as enjoying good food could bring him closer to power. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, feeling the energy flow through him, his cultivation inching forward, the whispers of progress a sweet melody against the background hum of the kitchen.
Wu Zhong, observing Tian Hao's evident enjoyment, beamed with pride. "Young Master, remember the old saying 'eat first, worry later' (Xiān chī bǎo zài shuō; 先吃饱再说)! You can't cultivate on an empty stomach, after all!" he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Tian Hao, his mouth full, could only nod, a wide grin spreading across his face. He swallowed, savoring the lingering taste before replying, "Indeed, Fatty Wu. You are a true artist. A culinary… magician." He took another bite of glazed pork, feeling the energy surge within him, a tangible testament to the effectiveness of the PINA method. This wasn't just food; it was fuel. Fuel for his cultivation, fuel for his newfound path.
When he finally leaned back, his hunger sated, a contented sigh escaping his lips, he looked at Wu Zhong, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Fatty Wu," he began, his tone light and conspiratorial, "this feast was…divine. Truly a masterpiece. But tell me… where can a man find some truly exceptional wine around here?"
Wu Zhong hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He wiped his hands nervously on his apron, his gaze shifting from Tian Hao to the floor and back again. "Young Master," he began cautiously, "surely you are already familiar with the establishments within the sect grounds?" He trailed off, his confusion evident. "But if you seek something special, there is a small establishment near the eastern gate. They boast a selection of the finest wines in the region, though…" He hesitated again, his eyes darting to Tian Hao, a hint of concern in his expression.
Tian Hao chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't worry, Fatty Wu. I have a… thirst for knowledge, shall we say. And what is cultivation without a little exploration? A little… indulgence?" He winked, the gesture now less awkward, more confident, the mask of the young master settling more comfortably on his face.
Wu Zhong shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips despite his evident concern. "As you say, Young Master. Just… try not to… overdo it." He bowed slightly as Tian Hao stood, the young master offering a nod of genuine appreciation before turning and heading out of the kitchens, the lingering aromas a promise of further indulgences to come.
The spark of excitement within him burned brighter now, fueled by good food and the anticipation of fine wine. He had a path, a method, and a growing sense of purpose. The disapproval of the elders, the whispers of the sect disciples – they were but fleeting shadows against the rising sun of his newfound freedom.