Chapter 212: Generations of Inheritance, Generations of Wisdom
No one knew the true extent of Lucifer's current feelings.
At this very moment, the usually proud and imperious Queen of Hell was a chaotic mixture of shyness, nervousness, and genuine fear.
The shyness and nervousness were absolutely understandable.
As for the fear, one only needed to look at her lower back. Lucifer didn't even dare to manifest her iconic demonic tail in the safety of her own home anymore, keeping it strictly banished to the ethereal plane.
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, her mind spinning with a profound sense of regret and anticipation.
One had to know that Lucifer had practically summoned the same immense courage she once used to wage war against the God of the Bible, just to agree to Ren's scandalous suggestion.
He had asked her to cosplay her former appearance. He wanted her to dress up as the pure, radiant angel she used to be back in Heaven.
Could she withstand this level of humiliation now?
The very thought of donning those pristine, holy garments for Ren's private viewing made her blood boil with a mixture of immense shame and undeniable desire.
Looking at Lucifer's face, which was rapidly alternating between a flushed, feverish red and a pale, anxious white, Hojo Miyoko tilted her head.
The young chef looked at the older woman with a very strange, almost bewildered expression.
Was this the fabled power of love?
To make a dignified, queen-like CEO woman completely melt down into a fidgeting, anxious mess like this... it truly was amazing.
Miyoko leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand as she observed the usually composed devil.
"I don't know whether to say Shopkeeper Ren is amazing, or if love is just too terrifying..." Miyoko whispered softly to herself.
Lucifer suddenly snapped back to her senses.
Her crimson eyes darted around the room before landing on the young chef.
"Miyoko!" Lucifer hissed nervously, her voice trembling slightly. "You don't know what I'm truly worried about."
She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, as if trying to shield her pounding heart from view.
"In a sense, Ren is a very dangerous existence..." Lucifer muttered, biting her lower lip so hard it almost turned white.
"Eh?"
Lucifer's cryptic words made Miyoko freeze for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion.
The young heiress of the Hojo culinary empire had never even been in love.
Up until now, she had absolutely zero interest in men, romance, or dating.
Of course, this total lack of interest simply stemmed from the fact that she felt those men were far too weak, both in character and in the kitchen, to ever hold her attention.
Lucifer clearly didn't want to explain the deeper, more intimate details of her predicament.
Or rather, if she did try to explain the lewd scenarios running through her head, she might become completely flustered and pass out on the spot.
"I just hope..." Lucifer whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the kitchen appliances. "I hope Ren won't actually buy me yoga clothes."
A fresh wave of heat exploded across Lucifer's cheeks as her imagination conjured the image of skin-tight, form-fitting spandex.
She pictured the fabric clinging to every curve of her thighs and waist, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"I definitely won't wear them..." Lucifer stammered, shaking her head vigorously. "Definitely..."
It was glaringly clear that Lucifer herself didn't believe a single word she was saying.
Her weak protests were utterly meaningless, because she knew deep down that she was completely helpless against Ren's commands.
If he looked at her with that gentle, expectant smile and handed her the clothes, she would put them on without hesitation.
Right now, Lucifer had only one coherent thought left in her frantic mind.
She absolutely, positively, must not appear in front of Ren at the gym tomorrow!
Just as Miyoko opened her mouth, ready to ask what was so frightening about a simple set of workout clothes, a rhythmic squeaking sound echoed through the room.
Ren pushed a polished silver dining cart out from the kitchen, the wheels gliding smoothly across the floorboards.
Miyoko instantly withdrew her gaze from the panicking devil.
Love was an invisible, intangible, and highly confusing concept that she simply couldn't grasp.
The glorious, mouth-watering dishes about to be served in front of her were much better.
Ren wiped his hands on his pristine white apron, flashing the young chef a knowing smile.
"It looks like you've figured out some of the shortcomings of your own cooking just by sitting here, and perhaps how to improve them," Ren said.
"Mm!" Miyoko nodded emphatically, her eyes locked onto the covered plates on the cart. "Just from the aroma drifting out of the kitchen earlier, I've gained a massive amount of insight."
She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning slightly white with anticipation.
"I'm absolutely sure the educational effect will be even better when I actually taste it!" Miyoko declared, her competitive spirit burning brightly.
Ren thought for a moment, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"That depends entirely on your own palate," Ren replied smoothly. "So, without further ado."
He reached out and lifted the silver cloches in one fluid, graceful motion.
"Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple, and Mapo Tofu," Ren announced proudly. "Please enjoy!"
"Mm!" Miyoko leaned forward eagerly.
"Wow!" Miyoko gasped, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. "It smells so incredibly good!"
The very second the dishes were unveiled, a thick, intoxicating cloud of fragrant steam rolled off the plates and enveloped the dining table.
Miyoko knew immediately that she had come to the right place; the aroma alone was simply incredible, commanding her complete attention.
No matter what specific branch of cuisine a chef specialized in, three fundamental pillars must always be considered: color, aroma, and taste.
Color refers to the visual appearance and plating, aroma to the complex scent profile, and taste to the actual flavor and mouthfeel.
Miyoko didn't know how delicious the dishes sitting in front of her truly were yet.
But as a professional, she knew instantly that in terms of color and aroma, these two dishes had already scored flawless, indisputable full marks.
What Miyoko cared about the absolute most right now was the Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple glistening under the restaurant lights.
It was a traditional staple, and a dish she absolutely had to master if she wanted to perfect her craft.
Chinese Cuisine didn't have the same rigid, strict formalities as traditional Japanese dining.
She didn't need to wait for a ceremonial greeting; she could just eagerly pick up her chopsticks and dive right in.
With a swift, practiced motion, Miyoko plucked a golden-brown chunk of pork from the plate, ensuring it was well-coated in the sticky amber glaze.
She brought it to her lips and took a bite.
A loud, deeply satisfying crunch echoed in the quiet dining room.
"Hmm?!" Miyoko's eyes widened in sheer shock. "How did he get this outer layer so incredibly soft, yet violently crispy at the exact same time?!"
The moment her teeth broke through the caramelized batter, a geyser of scalding, savory meat juice erupted across her tongue.
"Hmm!" Miyoko moaned softly, her cheeks flushing pink from the intense burst of flavor. "Can the meat juices really be locked in so perfectly without making the batter soggy?"
She chewed rapidly, marveling at the textural contrast.
"What chewy, magnificent meat..." she whispered in awe.
The rich, heavy fat of the pork was immediately cut by the sharp, refreshing acidity of the pineapple chunks mixed into the sauce.
"The sweet and sour taste is balanced just right!" Miyoko thought frantically, her mind racing as she analyzed the flavor profile.
She swallowed the bite, a look of profound realization washing over her features.
"Was I adding too little black vinegar in my own recipe before?" she muttered to herself. "No wonder my sauce's aroma wasn't nearly as rich and robust..."
Miyoko was genuinely, deeply contemplating the glaring shortcomings of her own Sweet and Sour Pork as she continued to eat piece after piece.
Although she didn't possess the legendary God Tongue and couldn't flawlessly discern every single micro-flaw down to the molecular level, she was still an elite chef.
After comparing Ren's dish to her own memories, she could still identify a multitude of crucial differences.
Her mental list of required improvements might not be complete, but it was more than enough to elevate her own cooking to a delicious new height.
As it is often said in the culinary world, bright sour and fiery spicy flavors always make one's mouth water just from thinking about them.
The Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple in front of her had already achieved this mouth-watering effect flawlessly.
If the Mapo Tofu sitting right next to it couldn't evoke that same primal, salivary reaction, it wouldn't live up to its vibrant, intimidatingly red color.
[Akarin's Note: "Mala" (麻辣) is a defining flavor in Sichuan cuisine, particularly in Mapo Tofu. "Ma" refers to the unique, tingling numbness caused by Sichuan peppercorns, while "La" refers to the fiery heat of chili peppers.]
Mapo Tofu, a brilliant combination of silken tofu and savory minced meat, can be perfectly summarized in one powerful word: Mala—spicy and numbing.
This dish can easily be considered a true international superstar of the culinary world.
One should know that this not-so-mild-tempered fellow, Mapo Tofu, ventured out completely alone after leaving its ancestral homeland in Tianfu.
Before anyone even realized what was happening, its aggressive flavor profile had conquered palates and became almost universally known worldwide.
Tofu itself is already heavily synonymous with absolute freshness and delicate tenderness.
Mapo Tofu further proves this point to an extreme degree.
The fresh, subtle, and delicious essence of the tofu is violently sublimated in this boiling pot of fiery red color.
It feels as if the blinding heat and the cooling tofu were meant to exist together in perfect harmony from the very beginning of time.
As culinary masters have mentioned before, simple, peasant-style dishes often possess the most extraordinary, soul-shaking flavors.
The global fame of such seemingly basic dishes is undeniably top-notch.
Among them all, Mapo Tofu strongly occupies an immovable position among the top ten dishes of Chinese gastronomy.
It has remained on that prestigious throne for a long time, completely unable to be replaced or dethroned by modern trends.
Although Mapo Tofu is renowned worldwide solely for its famous spicy and numbing qualities, that reputation is vastly incomplete.
When you actually taste an authentic bowl, you immediately realize the truth.
Spicy and numbing? Yes, absolutely.
But to say it is only spicy and numbing would be a grave, unforgivable insult to the soul of Mapo Tofu.
Numbing, spicy, fresh, lively, aromatic, hot, crispy, and tender.
Eight distinct, powerful flavors exploding in one single dish is what true Mapo Tofu is all about.
The absolute tenderness of the tofu is a marvel; it doesn't harden or dry out at all despite the scorching high temperatures of the wok.
Instead, it acts like a sponge, locking all that intense, blistering heat deep within itself.
With one bite, a diner always instinctively wants to purse their lips when eating hot tofu, trying to cool it down.
And Mapo Tofu waits for you right there, anticipating that exact reaction.
After slightly adapting to the blistering surface temperature, you purse your lips, you bite down—and it is perfect!
You must have gotten burned, right? But the pain is a glorious, addictive part of the experience.
The pristine aroma of the soybeans instantly reveals itself from within the cube, coupled beautifully with the unique numbing, spicy, and fresh taste of the chili oil.
To say this combination is highly addictive is no exaggeration; it is a culinary narcotic.
When eating Mapo Tofu, abandoning chopsticks and using a deep porcelain spoon is an excellent, mandatory choice.
Miyoko eagerly plunged her spoon into the deep red sea.
With one scoop down, she picked up a generous piece of tender tofu.
Its pristine white surface was beautifully stained crimson by the oil, gently trembling on the spoon with a fragile elasticity.
This mesmerizing jiggle proved beyond a doubt that its delicate softness hadn't hardened or overcooked during preparation.
The thick, vibrant red sauce, made perfectly viscous by a precise addition of potato starch, clung to the spoon.
It occasionally showed dark, roasted flecks of chili powder and crushed peppercorns clinging to the edges.
The sauce seemed to flow like molten lava yet held its shape, with the pristine tofu deeply steeped within its fiery depths.
Miyoko didn't hesitate; she shoved the entire spoonful into her mouth.
If you're lucky when eating this dish, you might even scoop up a hefty bit of the fried minced meat hidden in the oil.
Miyoko had hit the jackpot.
With one bite, an exhilaratingly spicy shockwave blasted through her sinuses.
It was refreshingly numbing, sending a barrage of electric tingles across her lips and tongue, completely paralyzing her pain receptors.
It was unbearably, punishingly hot, yet she couldn't bear the thought of spitting it out.
"Haa... haa..." Miyoko breathed out heavily through her mouth, panting as a thick sheen of sweat instantly broke out across her forehead.
She forced herself to adapt to the aggressive temperature little by little.
She chewed through the pain until that glorious moment of success arrived, when she truly experienced the underlying, savory deliciousness of the Mapo Tofu.
And right in that crucial moment of palate adaptation, the intense crispness of the fried minced meat also revealed itself.
One hard, one soft; one tender, one crispy.
Two completely opposite textures and two vastly different flavors, yet they were perfectly, seamlessly blended together in this one single pot.
In a word, it was nothing short of perfect.
When Mapo Tofu is served, you don't even need to ask a chef what you should eat with it.
Rice! Piping hot, fluffy white rice!
Miyoko aggressively shoveled a massive spoonful of the Mapo Tofu directly onto her bowl of steaming rice.
The brilliant red chili oil immediately seeped down into the pristine white grains, staining them with its savory heat.
She ate spoonful after frantic spoonful, abandoning all sense of noble etiquette.
Sweat flowed freely down her neck, soaking the collar of her chef's uniform as her chest heaved with heavy, spice-induced breaths.
She felt a euphoric, mind-numbing high washing over her brain.
True culinary satisfaction had never felt so primal, so aggressive, and so remarkably simple.
Hojo Miyoko was not a delicate, sheltered young lady who cared about maintaining a dainty image while eating.
So, she had absolutely no qualms about her messy appearance, quickly and ruthlessly finishing every last grain of rice and drop of sauce.
Being this comfortably, overwhelmingly full felt very grounding to her soul.
This was especially true with authentic Chinese Cuisine; it carried a unique, heavy weight.
That deep, lingering sense of utter satisfaction was something only Chinese Cuisine could truly provide.
Ren leaned against the dining table, resting his chin on his hand.
He looked at Miyoko, who was currently slumped backward in her wooden chair, staring at the ceiling and panting like a salted fish baking in the sun.
"It certainly seems like you enjoyed it," Ren said, a warm, teasing smile gracing his lips.
He poured her a glass of iced water and slid it across the table.
"Do you happen to remember our little bet from earlier, Miyoko?" Ren asked smoothly.
Miyoko slowly nodded her head, her heavy, spice-numbed brain struggling to process the question.
She slowly sat up, her brow furrowing as she fell into deep, serious thought.
After a long while of deafening silence in the restaurant, she finally looked up, meeting Ren's gaze.
She tentatively opened her mouth, her voice slightly hoarse from the chili peppers.
"The true meaning of Chinese Cuisine is... the profound, all-encompassing deliciousness," Miyoko guessed carefully. "And its grand inclusivity of all ingredients."
Ren chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"What you've stated just now are merely the surface characteristics of Chinese Cuisine," Ren explained gently. "They are its traits, not its core meaning."
He tapped a finger against the wooden tabletop.
"So, Miyoko," Ren smiled. "Do you need to take another guess, or...?"
Miyoko let out a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping.
She shook her head with genuine, deep-seated respect.
"Shopkeeper Ren," Miyoko said humbly, bowing her head slightly. "Then I truly do not know. Please, enlighten me..."
Ren's expression softened, taking on a tone of profound, quiet reverence.
"The true meaning of Chinese Cuisine lies in the boundless wisdom of continuous innovation," Ren said gently, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
He looked at the empty plates on the table, as if seeing the countless hands that had prepared these dishes before him.
"And more importantly, it lies in what has been fiercely preserved after crossing through an endless, turbulent history..."
Miyoko's eyes widened slightly as the pieces fell into place.
"Inheritance..." she whispered softly, the word feeling heavy on her tongue.
"Exactly," Ren nodded proudly. "Chinese Cuisine has always been a precious, living treasure. It is passed down by generations of excellent, dedicated chefs, and then meticulously refined and evolved by their successors."
Ren smiled warmly, looking directly into the young chef's determined eyes.
"Inheritance, sometimes, is not necessarily about handing down physical recipes or inherited objects," Ren said softly. "It is also about passing down an unbreakable spirit, and a generation's worth of wisdom..."
[Akarin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/AkarinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/AkarinTL
🔗 All My Links: linktr[.]ee/AkarinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]