And upon this table rested a volume of food that completely shattered the laws of physics and caloric density.
Ji'an dropped her spatula.
It landed softly in the grass with a muffled thud.
"Oh, my God," Ji'an whispered, her silver-flecked eyes tearing up with pure, religious culinary ecstasy.
It was a buffet.
But it wasn't just a buffet; it was the platonic ideal of a buffet.
It was the ultimate, undisputed, transcendent Mecca of gastronomy.
Directly in front of her were towering, steaming bamboo baskets stacked ten feet high, overflowing with perfectly pleated translucent Soup Dumplings (Xiaolongbao), the rich, golden broth practically shimmering inside the delicate wrappers.
To her left, a massive, rotating spit held an entire Crispy-Skin Spirit-Duck, the skin lacquered with a cherry-plum glaze that crackled and popped in the soft sunlight.
