Chapter 3 — From Chef God's Wife to Master Chef Champion

The smile on his face instantly froze.

“I… I forgot.” A flash of panic flashed in his eyes. “I saw on the internet that authentic sweet and sour ribs require pineapple…”

"Is that so? What 'online' said? Is it Co Ngu Bang's menu?"

This dish is one of Co Ngu Bang's famous works. She once said in an interview that her favorite thing to do is add fresh pineapple to sweet and sour stir-fried ribs, that's her "sweet secret". As for me—three years ago because I accidentally ate pineapple, I had an acute allergic attack and almost went into shock. He was the one who personally took me to the emergency room. It's such a big thing and yet you forget it. His guilty conscience was almost written directly on his face.

“Miao Mieu, it's not what you think…”

“So what is it like?”

My voice wasn't loud, but it left him speechless. At that moment, a pretty figure poked its head out from the kitchen.

"A Yen, what's wrong? Does the food not suit your taste?"

It's Co Ngu Bang. She tied our Pooh Bear double apron, with a little powder on her face. Seeing me, she pretended to be surprised and covered her mouth.

"Oh, you're home already? Sorry, I didn't know... A Yen said you're often busy with work and rarely eat at home, so I thought I'd help him cook a meal..."

Every sentence she said, she was declaring her position as a female master. Luc Yen immediately explained: "Mieu Mieu, don't misunderstand, Ngu Bang is just..."

“Just come to my kitchen, use my pot, make her favorite dish, let you taste it, and then forget what your wife is allergic to—right?”

I looked at them, only to see a churning in my stomach. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until my face darkened. Luc Yen was about to follow in but I pushed her away.

“Don't touch me!”

I locked the door, looked at my disheveled face in the mirror, and suddenly burst out laughing. I laugh at myself for being stupid, I laugh at myself for being naive. I thought three years of marriage would at least leave me a place in his heart. It turns out I was just a tool for him to escape reality. A “tool” that can be thrown away at will—no allergies, no preferences—a true tool person. I dried my tears, took out my phone, and texted Chu Ky Ky a message. 【Ky Ky, that contest, help me register.】 She texted back immediately: 【!!! Do you understand?】 I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes gradually became determined. 【Yes, I got it.】 【Some things, it's time to take it back.】 【My career, my life, and... my self-esteem.】 5. The following days, I moved completely into the studio. I blocked all contact with Luc Yen. I was so lazy that I didn't bother to glance at the news about you and Co Ngu Bang. In my world, there are only three things left: practice knives, research recipes, and restore scriptures. I consider myself like a sponge, frantically absorbing everything related to cuisine. The notebooks I kept sealed for three years, the cookbooks forgotten in the corner—all became my confidants again. Chu Ky Ky looked at me as if I had become a different person, both sad and happy.

“Miao Miao, you have finally found the old you.”

That's right—the old me. Some people, because they want to make the most perfect "white cabbage soup", can drink only soup for a week straight. Someone who wants to trim a lifelike phoenix can go three days and three nights without sleeping. I almost forgot—there was a time How passionate I am about food. On the preliminary day, the question I picked was: "Flavor in memory". I remember the lotus root stuffed with cinnamon and sticky rice that my grandmother used to make for me. That is the sweetest memory of my childhood. I didn't choose fancy techniques, I just devoted myself to restoring that rustic warmth. When the plate of sticky, soft and sweet lotus root, sprinkled with a layer of clear, sparkling cinnamon nectar, was brought before the judges. I saw an older judge with red eyes. “This dish reminds me of my mother,” he said. I was not nervous at all and went straight to the next round. The online contest caused quite a stir, my social network account increased by tens of thousands of followers overnight. Many people left comments under my video:

"Sister, the food you made looks so delicious! Full of the smoke and fire of everyday life!"

“This is real cuisine, not those cold molecular dishes that can compare.”

“Watching you cook, I feel like the whole world has calmed down.”

I read those comments, feeling the joy of being recognized for the first time. This joy is completely different from Luc Yen's casual "delicious" statement. The next round is increasingly difficult. From “putting poetry in the dish” to “blind box challenge”. I won like splitting bamboo, becoming the biggest "dark horse" of the competition. My reputation grew bigger and bigger, some food critics even started to put me on the scale to compare with "kitchen god Luc Yen". They said my dish was filled with the spirit and heat of Luc Yen's early works. As for Luc Yen's current work, although technically impeccable, it has lost its soul. Just in time for me to put all my effort into preparing for the semi-finals. An unexpected person appeared in my studio. It's Luc Yen.