Wang Ze didn't join in, because he was planning to eat with a senior at noon, but this self-sacrificing excuse he came up with was actually pretty decent, reasonable.
"Alright then, just a little bit." Lin Li nodded.
"OK, take a look yourself, what do you want to eat?"
Lin Li: "I'll have one lamb skewer, but I've got a tiny bit of a special request: the first three centimeters of meat at the tip, grill it so the surface is lightly charred to a tiger-skin color, the inside at about medium-rare, the center needs to stay pink and tender, juices locked in but no visible blood.
The next four-centimeter transition section, I want it evenly medium, connective tissue just starting to melt, fat half-rendered, half-not.
The final two centimeters at the tail, cook it to medium-well with a bit of chew, sprinkle chili powder on the surface in the shape of the Big Dipper, and make sure it precisely covers every single cumin seed."
