"Please enjoy your char siu rice," Gustave announced with a flourish, setting the steaming bowl before Chu Zihang with obvious pride.
"Thank you," Chu Zihang replied politely, picking up his chopsticks with practiced precision.
He had heard of this famous dish before but had never experienced it firsthand. The presentation was certainly impressive—perfectly sliced char siu arranged over glistening rice, topped with a golden-yolked egg that seemed to glow in the afternoon light.
Chu Zihang selected his first piece of barbecued pork, noting the subtle char marks that spoke of careful grilling. As he bit down, the meat released a burst of perfectly sealed juices, demonstrating Gustave's exceptional technique.
Initially, the flavor seemed familiar—well-prepared char siu with the expected sweet and savory notes. But as he continued chewing, something unexpected happened. A strange emotion began to well up from somewhere deep within his chest, catching him completely off guard.
Gustave waited expectantly for the inevitable question he'd heard countless times before: "Why am I crying? Why do I feel so sad?" Then he could deliver his signature reveal with dramatic flair: "It's the onions! I added onions to the marinade!"
But Chu Zihang remained silent.
Instead, the teenager quickly took another piece of meat, then a large spoonful of rice, as if trying to bury the rising emotions beneath the physical act of eating. But the dish's carefully crafted flavors worked in harmony, each bite intensifying rather than diminishing the emotional response.
As Chu Zihang ate, memories he'd tried so hard to suppress came flooding back with startling clarity:
He was young when his mother divorced that man and married his current stepfather. His new father was wonderful—kind, generous, giving him almost everything he could want. Yet despite this love and care, Chu Zihang could never forget the man who had come before.
He remembered that rain-soaked afternoon after school, when the man arrived in a gleaming Maybach. "This car," the man had explained with mysterious pride, "can only be started by three specific voices. Mine, my boss's, and..." He'd never finished that sentence.
Everything changed when they drove onto the elevated highway during that thunderstorm. The world transformed into something unrecognizable, filled with creatures from nightmare. Monstrous beings surrounded their vehicle as the man fought desperately to break through their encirclement.
But when Odin appeared—the legendary figure astride his eight-legged horse—the man's expression shifted to grim determination. Chu Zihang watched in frozen terror as the man grabbed a blade and charged toward the god of war, shouting for him to run, to get as far away as possible.
It was only in that moment that Chu Zihang finally understood who the third person was—the one whose voice could start the Maybach.
When that terrible night ended and Chu Zihang finally made it down from the highway, the man had vanished from the world forever...
Tears the size of pearls rolled down Chu Zihang's cheeks, falling into the char siu rice that Gustave had prepared with such care. If his admirers from Shilan Middle School could see their stoic idol crying so openly, they would be heartbroken beyond words.
None of the three hosts disturbed this moment of catharsis. Chu Zihang simply continued eating through his tears, consuming every grain of rice and every piece of meat in the bowl Gustave had crafted specifically for him.
Watching the young man's solitary grief, Tom's cartoon heart couldn't bear it any longer. He reached into his seemingly infinite storage space and produced a pack of tissues, offering them with gentle concern.
"Thank you," Chu Zihang managed between sobs, his usual composure completely shattered.
The meal took a long time to finish, and Tom's entire supply of tissues was exhausted by the end.
When Chu Zihang finally handed the empty bowl back to Gustave, his face was dry but his eyes remained red and swollen—clear evidence of the emotional storm he'd just weathered.
Those golden eyes that never fade should have awakened the night he encountered Odin, Gustave mused as he accepted the bowl. Why are they still their normal color after crying so hard?
If Chu Zihang could have read Gustave's thoughts, he might well have drawn his blade. Did you make this emotional dish just to see if my dragon blood would manifest?
"As a man, there's nothing you can't overcome," Gustave said instead, offering what wisdom he could. "Sometimes you need to cry out all the pain in your heart before you can move forward."
He took the bowl back to the kitchen, though he had no intention of washing it immediately. That was a chore he could delegate to Luffy later.
When Gustave returned, he was amazed to find Chu Zihang looking completely composed—no trace of his earlier breakdown remained visible.
The recovery power of mixed-bloods are truly terrifying, he thought with genuine admiration.
"By the way," Gustave said aloud, "would you like to hear about what your author had planned for your future? I could tell you what I know about your story's direction."
"No, thank you," Chu Zihang replied with his characteristic calm. "Po was right—I should focus on living each day fully. Since I came here through that door, it means my future won't follow whatever path that author had written."
He had returned completely to his usual demeanor—the cool, collected figure his classmates knew.
"Fair enough. As long as you're content with that choice."
"By the way, what do I owe you for the meal?" Chu Zihang asked, suddenly remembering he hadn't paid.
"Nothing at all," Gustave waved dismissively. "It's just a bowl of rice. Besides, you're our first customer through the Gate of All Worlds—that deserves special treatment."
"Then I should return home," Chu Zihang said. "My mother will worry if I'm gone too long."
"Of course. Just open the same door you used to arrive, and you'll be back in your world. In the future, whenever you want to visit, simply visualize that door in your mind and open it, no matter where you are."
Gustave briefly explained the Gate's mechanics. "If you have trustworthy friends you'd like to bring, that's fine too—just remember the maximum is five companions per visit."
"Understood," Chu Zihang nodded.
Gustave escorted him back to the third floor where the Gate of All Worlds waited. As Chu Zihang prepared to step through, Gustave called out:
"Hey, next time you visit, could you possibly bring some seasonings and pork from your world? I'd love to experiment with ingredients from different realities."
Chu Zihang paused thoughtfully. "I'll assess the situation when I return. If it's feasible, perhaps you could come purchase what you need yourself."
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Chu Zihang felt an unexpected trust toward Gustave—enough to extend an invitation to his own world.
"That sounds perfect," Gustave replied, genuinely intrigued. "I'd love to explore a parallel version of our world. Let me know what you find out."
"Then I'll take my leave. Goodbye."
"Safe travels."
With that, Chu Zihang stepped through the Gate, which closed seamlessly behind him.
"Tom!" Gustave called out immediately. "I saw you and Po sneaking popsicles without sharing! I demand compensation—hand one over right now!"
That evening, as Luffy finished washing the dinner dishes, he paused with a confused frown.
"There's an extra bowl today," he muttered, counting again. "Ace! Did you sneak food?"
"You idiot!" Ace shouted back from the next room. "You need evidence before making accusations! I was with you and Cutty Flam all day—when would I have had time to steal food?"
"Oh yeah, that's right," Luffy scratched his head sheepishly. "Then who used this bowl?"
He wandered back to his room, still puzzled by the mystery.
"Hopeless," Ace sighed, shaking his head at his brother's predictable obliviousness.