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Cooking Time

Splinters of Time

In the coastal town of **Sarween**, where the waves of the sea collide with the curse of suspended time, a legend unfolds about a man imprisoned in an endless loop of guilt and oblivion. Adham, the writer who turned his heart into a ledger of lies and ghosts, battles the demons of his memory through **stone towers** that rise from the belly of the sea like divine punishment. Here, where events are born from the womb of pain, **Yara** transforms from a lost daughter into a cosmic enigma: a child who vanishes on a crimson night, only to return as mathematical ciphers that pierce the fabric of reality. Her letters are not cries for help, but calls from parallel worlds mocking humanity’s attempts to grasp time. The **twenty towers**, numbered with the blood of victims, are not mere stone—they are open books bleeding with the wounds of a past rewriting itself. Each tower is a mirror reflecting Adham’s fractured selves: a terrified child, a guilty youth, a weary old man. The **scar above the heart** is but a fiery seal reminding him that the truth is a beast fiercer than any fiction. In this world, time is a poisoned loop: the sea spits out corpses bearing identical DNA, the **white shark** devours the dreams of the past, and shattered mirrors forge parallel universes where Yara does not die… but morphs into an idea haunting her creator. This tale is not a narrative, but a morbid dance between creator and creation. Adham, who believed writing would redeem him, discovers he authored his own prison with his hands: every sentence carved a scar, every chapter lit a candle in the darkness of his conscience. This novel is not about lost time, but about a being who builds his cage from falsified memories and battles mirrors reflecting his image as a crownless executioner. Here, in Sarween, the truth is not a victim… but a killer cloaked in martyrdom. Thus unfolds the legend of **Shards of Time**: like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the river of memory, drinking from it until death. But here, the river is a sea that regurgitates the names of victims every night, and the mirrors do not reflect faces… they devour them.
Muntadher_Khudhur · 381 Views

Exiled Cook's POV

  Wan Ling traveled through time and space, from a kitchen god to an inconspicuous little maid in the prime minister's mansion.   Good news: The Prime Minister’s Mansion is extremely wealthy, and all the servants live a prosperous life without having to worry about food and clothing.   Bad news: The prime minister's residence was ransacked and all the servants were to be sold again.   Wan Ling felt that she was a big victim.   "All the guilty officials and their relatives in the Prime Minister's Mansion will be exiled to Lingnan."   Lingnan.   Wan Ling was a little embarrassed.   Isn't this her hometown?   *****   Thinking that she was about to be sold to Yanliudi, Wan Ling was so scared that her legs went limp.   She pounced on the tall man who was the leader of the exile team.   "Prime Minister, don't you want me anymore? We agreed to stay together forever. Even if I have to be exiled, I will follow you!"   [ If you expose me, I will curse you to be constipated for three days! ]   [ I am so kindhearted that I am willing to use my cooking skills to save your family. Don’t be ungrateful! ]   [ Nod! Nod quickly! I want to go back to my hometown to revitalize the countryside! Strive to be a builder of the times! ]   The man drooped his eyelashes, and his eyes became darker.   "You are my beloved concubine, I can't bear to let you go..."   "Separated from you."   Wan Ling: ...   *****   The game starts with a shabby thatched hut, a pot and a knife.   Wan Ling gritted her teeth.   No one can stop her from making a career in this wasteland.
Min_Xue · 1.5K Views
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