Chapter 11: The Old Man's Cooking Manual
"A killer dish!"
Xia Yu blinked, then smiled. "Are you complimenting me, or mocking me?"
He had already braced himself for Erina Nakiri's infamous sharp tongue, so
he didn't take her words too seriously. But something she'd said lingered in
his mind:
"A killer dish."
That term wasn't used lightly. In the Totsuki culinary world, it referred to
a trump card dish—something only members of the Elite Ten or chefs near their
level possessed. Such dishes were rarely revealed, often saved for climactic
showdowns or pivotal food battles.
Could my Magic Mapo Tofu really be a killer dish?
Previously, Xia Yu would have scoffed at the idea.
But now? After seeing Director Nakiri's clothes spontaneously explode off
his chest—and hearing reluctant praise from the God's Tongue herself—he felt a
budding sense of belief.
If there came a day when he could cook a glowing version of that tofu dish,
then perhaps… just perhaps, it would truly become his trump card.
He silently memorized each point Erina had critiqued. Her words, harsh as
they were, were full of valuable insight. And she wasn't wrong—he was
just a beginner. Not even a chef, really. Just a rookie standing at the
threshold of the kitchen world.
That was probably why the system hadn't given his Mapo Tofu a high score.
Details. Basic skills…
Xia Yu frowned, deep in thought. Other chefs had spent over a decade
mastering these fundamentals. How was he supposed to catch up?
A loud humph broke his focus.
"Praise you?" Erina scoffed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "You should be
thanking me, commoner. Do you know how much it costs to have me evaluate a
dish? My appearance fee starts at one million yen—and that's only if you get
through the waiting list."
Xia Yu laughed. "You and I are both young. Talking about money ruins the
mood. Tell you what—next time, I'll cook you another of my signature dishes.
Free of charge."
Erina wrinkled her nose. "Do I even know you?"
"Then allow me to formally introduce myself."
He stood up and gave an exaggeratedly elegant bow.
"My name is Xia Yu, from China. Ten years ago, my grandfather brought me to
Japan. I've spent—or will spend—my entire childhood here, including elementary,
junior high, and after spring break… high school."
Erina raised a brow, unimpressed. "You really don't need to introduce
yourself like some street performer. I'm sure you've seen me on food programs
or in culinary magazines."
Then, flipping her hair with a smug glint in her eye, she added:
"I'm Erina Nakiri. Director of Totsuki Junior High, and the tenth seat of
the Elite Ten. Remember the name, commoner."
"I will, I will," Xia Yu chuckled, carrying the empty dishes back into the
kitchen.
By the time he returned, the old man was already walking Nakiri Senzaemon
and Erina out the restaurant door. Xia Yu followed him outside, where the trio
stood beneath the dim evening sky.
"Mr. Xia Qing," said Senzaemon warmly, "I look forward to your early
return."
Then the Director turned to Xia Yu and handed him an envelope.
"Don't be too quick to refuse. Just take it. There's nearly a month until
Totsuki High officially begins—you've got plenty of time to think it over. With
your talent, you'd shine at Totsuki. You could be part of its next 'Jade
Generation.'"
Xia Yu glanced at the invitation, then shook his head firmly.
"The world outside Totsuki is vast and exciting. I don't want to be tied
down by a school. Running this little restaurant—that's the kind of life I
want. I'm sorry."
To his surprise, Nakiri Senzaemon didn't look the least bit offended. He
simply nodded with a faint smile and walked toward his black luxury sedan.
"You'll regret this, commoner," Erina snapped, biting her lower lip in
frustration.
To her, Xia Yu's refusal of Totsuki's invitation was a direct insult to the
Nakiri family. After all, the entire school—and much of the Totsuki culinary
empire—was under her family's control.
She paused before climbing into the car, unable to resist a final jab:
"With your crude cooking skills, this Chinese restaurant is doomed. Running
a business isn't as easy as playing house. As a chef, you're unqualified!"
Then she threw him a scornful glare.
"I hope the next time I see you, your restaurant isn't boarded up… and
you're not homeless."
Bang.
The door slammed shut, and the stretched black limousine rolled off into the
night.
Xia Yu watched the car disappear, then looked sideways at his grandfather.
"Hey, old man—your grandson just got insulted to his face. Aren't you gonna
say something?"
"If you want to run this store," Xia Qing said without turning around, "then
meet my standards."
He turned and walked back into the restaurant, hands clasped behind his
back.
As night settled in, Xia Yu was preparing for a solo kitchen practice
session when Xia Qing tossed a thick notebook into his hands.
"You have seven days to learn everything in that," the old man said. "I've
already booked a flight for a week from now. If you haven't mastered it by
then, you're going to Totsuki."
Huh?
Before he could react, a system prompt popped up:
Mission received: [Inherit the Chinese Restaurant]
Objective: Meet the requirements for inheritance and earn Xia
Qing's approval
Reward: [Jade-Broken Knife] (purple-grade kitchenware)
Another mission!
Xia Yu's eyes gleamed with determination. He clenched his fists.
"That little girl… Next time we meet, I'll prove I can run this restaurant
just fine!"
He set down his spatula and examined the notebook.
The cover was old, the edges slightly frayed, but it had clearly been
carefully preserved. When he flipped it open, he found the pages filled with
precise pencil writing. Everything was still legible—years later.
System prompt:
"Cookbook detected. Add to Kitchen God System?"
"Add?" Xia Yu asked in surprise.
"Yes. Copy contents to the system. Information will be reorganized,
redundant parts removed, and essential skills retained to improve learning
efficiency."
"Then go ahead!"
"Upload complete. Please name the book."
Xia Yu rubbed his chin. "Let's call it… the Old Man's Cooking Manual.
Definitely not his, uh, 'private notes.'"
Beep.
[The Old Man's Cooking Manual]
Grade: Excellent (blue)
Contents: Basic knife skills, heat control, ingredient selection, and common
foundational cooking techniques. Includes 11 green-quality recipes such as Kung
Pao Chicken, Fish-Fragrant Pork Shreds, and Fuqi Feipian.
Estimated time to mastery: 5 days.
"Five days?" Xia Yu exhaled in relief.
He set the notebook aside and turned his attention to the ingredients on the
counter.
Gas on. Fire lit. Wok heated. Peppers and Sichuan peppercorns tossed in.
The aroma of chili oil bloomed.
This time, he wasn't guessing.
He used a timer to control every stage of stir-frying to the second. Erina's
first critique—the overcooked soy mince—was easily corrected.
Then came the second point: the timing of the fermented black bean paste,
the broad bean paste, the salt, sugar, and finally, the broth.
And the third—how he handled the tofu.
All of it boiled down to one thing: heat control.
With full concentration and the timer by his side, Xia Yu addressed each
flaw meticulously.
"System," he called out mid-stir-fry, "check the manual. Is there a section
on thickening techniques?"
Affirmative.
The text in his mind blurred—then reformed into a vivid learning image.
A middle-aged chef in a spotless white uniform stood at a kitchen station,
repeatedly demonstrating the correct timing and wrist movements for
"thickening."
It all clicked.
Thickening wasn't just an afterthought—it was vital. Pouring the right
amount of slurry at the perfect moment allowed the marinade to cling to the
food, enhancing texture, flavor, and presentation.
No wonder Erina could tell I was a novice.
Anyone with proper culinary training would never have fumbled such a basic
step. His embarrassment from earlier became motivation now.
Eyes blazing, Xia Yu watched and practiced along with the image.
This flaw… I'll fix it now.
Once the dish was nearly complete, he added the sesame oil along the edge of
the wok, just as the image had shown. He didn't serve the food right away.
Instead, he heated the plate on a separate burner until it was warm to the
touch, then carefully plated the dish.
The final touch: a sprinkle of chopped green onion.
Then it happened.
The moment the dish was plated, the kitchen lit up like sunrise. A brilliant
golden light surged from the wok, flooding the dim night with radiance.