It was incredibly difficult for the Ming's chefs to prepare their meal without a pressure cooker. The absence of that crucial tool slowed their process, forcing them to struggle through every step. Sweat gathered on their brows as they tried to compensate with firewood and constant blowing to increase the heat. It drained their strength, but they refused to give up.
On the other hand, the Joseon team worked smoothly and in harmony. Their preparation flowed effortlessly, each member understanding their role. Within a short time, they had completed their cooking.
Soon, it was time to present the dishes.
The Ming's chefs stepped forward first, presenting their meal to the royals with confidence. The royal panel tasted it carefully before asking about the concept behind the dish. Lee respectfully explained the ingredients, the cooking method, and the cultural meaning behind it.
Then it was the Joseon team's turn.
Minsoo and her team presented their dish gracefully, explaining its preparation and significance. The aroma alone filled the hall with warmth.
The moment of judgment had arrived.
Just as everyone expected the royal panel to begin scoring, the king suddenly stood.
"Let the chefs score themselves this round," he declared.
Murmurs filled the room.
He turned his gaze toward Minsoo. "What do you think?"
Minsoo bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, I am not qualified to score my own meal. No chef should grade themselves. However, it would be an honor if our opponents scored us, and we scored them in return. That would reflect fairness and professionalism."
She turned toward the Ming's chefs. "What do you think?"
Lee nodded. "We would be honored."
At first, the general frowned in anger. But soon, a smile formed on his lips. He believed the Ming's chefs would act dishonorably and score the Joseon team low, securing victory for his side.
"May we taste your meal?" Minsoo asked politely.
The Ming's chefs stepped forward and served their dish to the Joseon team.
When Minsoo tasted it, her eyes widened.
"What remarkable skill," she said sincerely. "Your dish carries richness and balance. It is an honor to taste something so refined."
Lee smiled humbly. "Thank you. The pleasure is ours."
Then it was time for the Ming's team to taste the Joseon dish.
Minsoo personally served the meal. Everyone tasted it—Lee, Yumei, and the others.
Everyone except Lin.
Lin was known for never tasting his own food. He had carried that fear for years. Long ago, after his master—the man who taught him everything about cooking—passed away, Lin attempted to recreate his master's signature dish. When he tasted it, it was nothing like he remembered. It was terrible.
The disappointment shattered him.
He cried that day, mourning both the food and his master. From that moment on, he swore never to taste his own cooking again.
When Minsoo noticed Lin sitting still, untouched food before him, she sensed something deeper.
She stood.
Walking calmly to him, she gently adjusted the dish—adding small touches of seasoning she had prepared. Then she held his trembling hand and placed the spoon in it.
"Go on," she whispered softly. "Try it."
The hall fell silent.
Lee and Yumei watched in shock. The general's sharp eyes never left Lin.
Lin's hands shook violently. Fear clouded his expression.
Slowly, he lifted the spoon.
The moment the food touched his tongue, time seemed to stop.
He froze.
Then tears streamed down his face.
For the first time in years, Lin spoke.
"This… this is one of the best meals I have ever tasted," he said through trembling breath. "You have revived something that died inside me."
Lee's eyes widened in disbelief. For the first time ever, Lin had eaten without rejecting the food.
"I give you all the credit," Lin said sincerely.
The atmosphere in the hall shifted. Respect replaced rivalry.
Finally, it was time to reveal the scores.
The Joseon team presented their mark first.
Eight.
The general smiled, pleased they had not given a perfect score. He expected worse from the Ming's.
Then the Ming's team stepped forward.
Nine.
Gasps echoed throughout the hall.
With an eight and a nine combined, the Joseon team emerged victorious.
The king's face lit up with pride and joy.
The general's expression darkened with fury.
The king turned to him calmly. "It is time for you to leave my land."
The general clenched his jaw. "I will leave," he replied coldly. "But on one condition."
The hall grew tense.
"What condition?" the king asked.
The general's eyes shifted slowly toward Minsoo.
"I will leave… with the palace head chef."
The king's voice thundered through the hall.
"What?!"