"Honestly," Erina murmured with a sigh, arms folded as she leaned against the Tavern's wooden counter, her eyes narrowed at the scene before her. "Every time he comes up with a new dish, it's always something unconventional."
Across the open kitchen, Zane moved with calm precision. On the counter in front of him lay blocks of silken tofu, a slab of ham with evenly bored holes, and a few bowls of aromatics. The very nature of what he was attempting made her furrow her brow.
"Tofu is extremely soft," she muttered again, watching him carefully scoop, mold, and stuff. "Making it into spherical shapes and inserting them into ham? That's… difficult, and completely unnecessary!"
Cutting tofu into rectangular domino blocks and simply steaming them on top of the ham would have been far more practical. It would have absorbed the flavors just as well, if not better. Why complicate things?
Why go to such ridiculous lengths?
Erina couldn't help but feel baffled. Zane's dish once again defied every convention she held dear.
In the Realm of Culinary Logic…
In culinary theory, simplicity is often king.
Even Erina, who had once held the belief that noble cuisine meant extravagance, had grown to appreciate the value of practicality. Her God's Tongue taught her that overly complex dishes often lost the essence of the ingredients themselves. She remembered the infamous dish "Eggplant Paste"—an attempt to elevate one eggplant with over ten other ingredients. The result? A confusing medley where not even her divine palate could determine if she was tasting eggplant, fish, or chicken.
True cooking, in her view, was about reduction. Trimming the excess. Highlighting an ingredient's nature, not burying it beneath layers of pretense.
But Zane's current creation went against all of that.
Instead of letting the tofu shine simply, he was forcing it into spheres, gently placing them inside twenty-four bored holes of a ham slab. It was intricate, time-consuming, even absurd.
"Sigh… I don't understand at all," Erina said aloud, rubbing her temples as her eyes followed Zane's every movement.
Aroma Before Sight
Then came the steaming.
As the lid of the custom clay steamer lifted, a wave of heat and aroma flooded the Tavern. It was deep and savory, laced with the warm, enveloping scent of slow-cooked ham and the soft sweetness of steamed tofu. The perfume of scallion oil drifted through the air, mingling with the smoky undertones of cured meat.
Anne, seated nearby and watching intently, leaned forward instinctively.
Yet—visually—the dish didn't look extraordinary.
A long slab of ham, pink and glistening, embedded with 24 tiny tofu balls. Uniform. Neat. But not exactly beautiful.
Still, Anne could sense something extraordinary. "This…" she said breathlessly. "Zane, what is the name of this dish?"
Zane smiled softly, brushing back his sleeves. "Don't judge it by appearance. This dish is called 'Twenty-Four Bridges under the Moonlight.'"
Anne blinked. "That sounds poetic. Is it… from an ancient poem?"
"Smart," he replied, nodding approvingly. "It's from a Tang Dynasty poem. The twenty-four bridges represent the twenty-four tofu balls nestled into the ham. The moonlight represents their pale, glowing appearance—each one like a little moon in the night."
A soft gasp escaped Anne's lips. "Oh… that's beautiful." Her eyes lit up as she picked up her chopsticks.
A Journey of Taste
The moment Anne tasted the ham, her mouth was flooded with its rich umami. Aged, smoky, and perfectly seasoned—it wrapped around her senses like a silk robe. The tofu that followed was a revelation. Silky smooth, almost custard-like, it contrasted with the saltiness of the ham in a delicate dance. The scallion oil added a final flourish—a bright and grassy top note that cut through the richness.
Each bite brought out more than just flavor. It was a play of textures and temperatures: hot and soft, dense and juicy, light and rich.
Anne's eyes fluttered shut. "The tofu absorbs the ham's depth… yet stays pure and light. The balance is perfect."
She took another bite, this time pairing two tofu balls with a slice of ham. "The salt of the meat, the calmness of the tofu—it's like yin and yang in every mouthful."
Zane simply smiled as he listened.
Beyond the Plate
As Anne savored each bite, something inside her began to shift.
The Tavern faded.
She stood on a mountain peak under a sky of endless stars. A full moon hung above like a silver lantern, and there, beneath the moonlight, stood a man—tall, serene, and resolute. Dressed in white robes, he blended into the rocks and trees, as though nature itself had birthed him.
He raised a flute to his lips.
Its notes echoed through the valleys, ancient and noble, a lonely cry across time.
Anne felt herself drawn to him—drawn to Zane as she never had before.
When the music stopped, he turned, his eyes meeting hers.
"Miss," he said, "would you like to play the flute with me?"
Her heart fluttered. "I… I would love to."
And then—
She blinked, shaken.
Back in the Tavern, Anne gasped and clutched the edge of the table. "What's… what's happening to me?"
The warmth of the food still lingered on her tongue, but her heartbeat hadn't calmed. It was as if the dish had opened something deeper than taste—something poetic and ancient.
Culinary Philosophy
"Zane," she said slowly, "Chinese cuisine emphasizes balance, right? Yin and yang?"
"You're absolutely right," he replied. "All Chinese dishes follow the laws of harmony."
He continued, "High-moisture foods, like tofu, are yin. Dry and salty foods, like ham, are yang. Together, they create balance—not just in nutrition, but in energy and spirit."
Anne nodded thoughtfully. "So it's not about being rich or luxurious. Even humble ingredients can become extraordinary if they're in balance."
Zane smiled. "That's the heart of it. Every ingredient has its moment, if used correctly."
Anne leaned back, deeply moved. "And I feel like… that's what this dish did. It brought me to that moment."
Unexpected Guests
Just then, the bell above the Tavern door rang.
"Alice, are we in the right place?"
"Of course, Mom! He must've remodeled again," Alice said with a grin.
Leonora Nakiri stepped in, exuding grace and elegance in a lavender dress that hugged her figure. She looked around with a curious smile before her gaze settled on Zane.
"What a pleasant surprise," Leonora said warmly. "You've made some impressive changes."
"I'm glad you like it," Zane replied. "Here, try some of our new coffee blends."
He placed two cups before them with practiced ease.
Alice took a sip and beamed. "Zane, it's been too long."
Zane looked at her gently. "It has. Since you're here with your mother, have you decided what to eat?"
"We'll try whatever you recommend," Alice replied.
"How about Fire Dumplings?"
"Fire Dumplings?" she asked, intrigued. "Do they… actually shoot flames?"
Zane chuckled. "No, but they resemble flames in appearance—especially when pan-fried in our special clay pot."
A Dumpling's Soul
In northern China, pork was the staple meat for dumplings.
Zane selected pork shoulder with the perfect 30/70 fat-to-lean ratio. It was the ideal balance—fat enough for juiciness, lean enough for structure. He chopped the meat by hand, as machines would ruin the texture. Then he marinated it in soy sauce, scallions, ginger, salt, and a touch of sesame oil, mixing always in one direction—an old technique that ensured the protein strands aligned for a perfect bounce.
"I expected shrimp," Erina muttered, still watching from the corner. "But it's pork?"
Alice's head whipped around. "Erina? What are you doing here?"
Erina smirked. "Since residential training ended, I've been working here. Temporary staff."
"What? You…?" Alice blinked in disbelief.
The Final Flame
Zane prepared the dough with boiling water first, then kneaded in cold water to achieve that ideal elasticity. Each dumpling was folded into a crescent and placed on a bamboo mat inside a clay pot. A drizzle of chicken oil coated them before the lid was closed.
Steam hissed.
Golden crusts began to form.
And finally—Leonora, watching all this, blinked.
"These dumplings…" she whispered, "they're not just pan-fried. They're something more."
Her expression shifted from curiosity to awe as the aroma hit her senses.