"Hahaha, then we won't hold back!"
"The boss's cooking for a match is on a whole different level from his usual dishes!"
"Well then, I'll dig in first!"
As the judges stared at the dishes before them, their eyes sparkled with excitement and their mouths watered. One by one, they could no longer resist and began to eat.
Lin Zhi, however, didn't rush. Instead, he studied the dishes carefully.
Cooking is judged by three main elements: color, aroma, and taste. The aroma of both dishes filled the air, blending together so completely that it was hard to distinguish which was which. That left color and taste.
Both fried rice dishes looked similar at first glance—light golden in color, with diced ham and finely chopped scallions sprinkled throughout. The colors were vibrant, the presentation appetizing. Yet, compared to the challenger's, the boss's dish seemed to emit a faint, almost mystical glow.
After a moment's pause, Lin Zhi reached out with his spoon toward Soma Yukihira's dish. He scooped up a spoonful, held it level with his eyes, and observed closely.
Each grain of rice was distinct, evenly coated in golden egg. The rich fragrance of the egg intertwined with the savory aroma of ham and scallions, merging into that familiar, comforting scent unique to egg fried rice. Just looking at it was enough to stir the appetite.
It looked almost identical to his own fried rice—so why did it somehow feel… different?
Frowning slightly in curiosity, Lin Zhi lifted the spoon to his lips. As the rice entered his mouth, each grain seemed to dance on his tongue. The texture was soft yet springy, each bite releasing warmth and flavor that spread through his senses.
And then, faintly, it felt as if sunlight had brushed across his face—gentle and warm.
"Hm? This feeling…"
Lin Zhi's eyes widened. It was so familiar.
Instinctively, he looked up at the boss—Jōichirō Yukihira—who was already watching him with an amused smile. Jōichirō tilted his head toward his own dish.
"Try mine."
"Hey, hey! Don't you go playing favorites just because he's my dad!" Soma protested, glaring at Lin Zhi nervously.
Smack!
Jōichirō's hand landed sharply on the back of his son's head. Narrowing his eyes, he gave Soma a dangerous look. "You really think I'd need cheap tricks to beat you?"
Rubbing his head, Soma muttered under his breath, "Who knows? Otherwise, how could I have lost over four hundred times…"
What a heartwarming father-and-son moment.
Lin Zhi chuckled softly, unbothered, and scooped a spoonful from the other plate—the boss's dish.
Though it was also fried rice, this one seemed to shimmer faintly with golden light, captivating his gaze.
He took a bite.
The moment it touched his tongue, his mind went blank. The world around him shifted—and suddenly, he stood on a sunlit beach.
Golden rays poured down from the sky, wrapping him in warmth. The deep blue sea stretched to the horizon, waves rolling gently ashore. White gulls soared freely through the air. For an instant, his very soul seemed to float with them.
That feeling—pure, liberating joy—sent a shiver through his mind.
When he came back to himself, Lin Zhi found that his hand was already moving on its own, eager for another bite.
…
"This feeling… so blissful! The boss's dish really is on another level!"
"Yeah, looks like Soma still has some catching up to do. Has he ever beaten him before?"
"I'm voting for the boss too. And Soma? Nah, not once!"
"Same here! Boss gets my vote!"
The other judges had already finished tasting, reluctantly setting down their spoons on Jōichirō's now-empty plate.
One grumbled, "Jōichirō, your portions are way too small! I barely got a taste!"
"Right? Why are your dishes always so tiny during matches?"
Another judge chimed in, eyeing Jōichirō teasingly. "Maybe next time, we'll have to factor portion size into our scoring."
"Oh? Good point! After all, making sure your guests leave full is part of being a chef!"
"Haha, Matsui, you're finally using that brain of yours!"
"Shut up!"
Jōichirō crossed his arms, a toothpick in his mouth, smiling at the noisy bunch.
These idiots are full of crap, he thought. Sure, the portions for a match are smaller—but not that small. What are you, crocodiles?
Gabriel was the last to vote. Following the others' example, she placed her spoon on Jōichirō's plate, her expression serene, hands clasped before her chest as if offering a prayer.
Probably thanking God for the meal.
Soma's face fell, his expression twisting in defeat. He turned toward Lin Zhi, eyes filled with desperate hope.
But Lin Zhi only gave him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry… but the boss's dish wins for me."
With that, he placed his spoon on Jōichirō's plate.
Soma froze, then grabbed his hair in frustration, throwing his head back with a wail of despair.
"Ahhh!!! Damn it all!!!"
Jōichirō burst out laughing. "You're still a hundred years too early to beat me, kid!"
"Alright! The diner's open again—what'll everyone have?"
"Boss, one bowl of tonkotsu ramen!"
"I'll take more of that fried rice!"
Jōichirō jotted down the orders quickly on sticky notes, then turned toward Lin Zhi and Gabriel with a grin.
"And for you two?"
Lin Zhi thought for a moment. "Seafood risotto."
"I'll have the same," Gabriel said immediately.
"Got it! Just a moment!"
Jōichirō turned back toward the kitchen—and without missing a beat, smacked Soma on the back of the head again.
"Get moving, brat! You think I've lived this long just to lose to you?!"
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T/N:
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