Chapter Thirty-Two: The Medicinal Cuisine Chef

“It was my mistake. Allow me to introduce myself again: I am Song Changsheng. Greetings, Fellow Daoist Zhu.” Song Changsheng cupped his hands in a formal salute.

“So, it seems Fellow Daoist Song has agreed to be friends with me?” Zhu Yiqun inquired.

“Fellow Daoist Zhu possesses a chivalrous heart, willing to speak up for justice for a stranger. To make your acquaintance is truly my good fortune,” Song Changsheng replied sincerely.

For those with good intentions, Song Changsheng was always willing to make friends. After all, in life, one more friend is better than one more enemy.

“Hahaha, Fellow Daoist Song flatters me. I simply cannot abide seeing that man swindle and deceive wherever he goes.

Meeting you today feels like reuniting with an old friend. If you have no other matters, why don’t we find a place to enjoy a few drinks?” Zhu Yiqun’s words were modest, but inwardly he was delighted.

Song Changsheng had almost finished his stroll anyway. Hearing Zhu Yiqun’s suggestion, he nodded, “That would be excellent. I’ve heard that the Jade Delicacy House in Liuyun Market is renowned for its culinary skills. Why don’t we try their fare?”

“Splendid! After you, Fellow Daoist Song.” Zhu Yiqun agreed readily. Since he had suggested the drink, it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to pick the place too, especially considering they weren’t yet close.

Jade Delicacy House was a bustling restaurant. Its owner did not belong to any of Lingzhou’s factions, nor even to the Great Qi cultivation world.

It was a chain restaurant spanning several nations, with a powerful background. It was said that even in the most chaotic places, as long as you entered the Jade Delicacy House, no one dared harm you.

Over time, dining at Jade Delicacy House became a symbol of status.

Song Changsheng chose this location partly to show respect, and partly out of caution, to prevent any ill intentions.

Friendship was one thing, but vigilance was always necessary.

“Honored guests, how many in your party, and what would you like?” As soon as they entered, a beaming waiter greeted them warmly—respectful but not obsequious, his manner impeccably measured.

Song Changsheng glanced around. The first floor was spacious but somewhat noisy, not to his liking. He addressed the waiter, “Do you have any private rooms? We’d like one by the window, please, and bring us a selection of your signature dishes and wines.”

“Of course, sirs. Please follow me,” the waiter replied, nodding.

He led them to a private room named “Orchid,” poured tea for them, and said, “Gentlemen, your food and wine will be ready shortly. Please wait a moment.”

“Thank you.” Song Changsheng promptly placed two spirit stones on the tray as a tip.

After the waiter left, Song Changsheng invited Zhu Yiqun to sit. “May I ask, Fellow Daoist Zhu, which sect do you hail from?”

Zhu Yiqun smiled. “I am a rogue cultivator, not nearly as distinguished as you, Fellow Daoist Song.”

Song Changsheng could tell he was being truthful, and was surprised. The man seemed about his age, but Song Changsheng could not see through his cultivation, which meant his abilities were significant.

If he truly was a rogue cultivator, his talent must be extraordinary.

Though Zhu Yiqun noticed Song Changsheng’s curiosity, he offered no further explanation. Instead, he pointed at the gourd at Song Changsheng’s waist and said, “Fellow Daoist Song, I detect the aroma of fine wine. You have something good on you.”

Song Changsheng paused, then unfastened the precious gourd and said in surprise, “You have a remarkably keen sense of smell to notice that.”

The plump man laughed heartily, drained his teacup, then placed it before Song Changsheng. “Not only is my nose sharp, my eyes are too. The first time I saw you outside the market, I felt you were someone worth befriending.

Now, catching the scent of this wine, I’m even more certain. You love good drink, and I love good food—a perfect match.”

“Haha, it seems you’ve been eyeing my spirit wine for some time, haven’t you?” Song Changsheng teased, then uncorked the gourd and filled both cups. Instantly, the rich aroma of wine filled the room.

Zhu Yiqun’s eyes lit up. He lifted the cup, inhaled deeply, then sipped, eyes narrowing in delight. After a moment, he licked his lips and said, “This wine is mellow and smooth, not at all harsh, with a lingering aftertaste. Excellent, truly excellent.”

With that, he downed the rest and looked utterly satisfied.

Song Changsheng refilled his cup with a laugh. “This spirit wine was brewed by my mother herself. If we weren’t so like-minded, I’d never bring it out.”

“Is that so? Then I must have a few more cups!” Zhu Yiqun threw back his drink in one gulp.

The two began to drink together.

Soon, the waiter returned with the dishes and wine.

There was a small plate of dried meat, a steamed spirit fish, and several dishes of both meat and vegetables.

As soon as the food was placed on the table, the aroma of the dishes easily overpowered the scent of the wine.

“No wonder Jade Delicacy House has its reputation—every dish excels in color, fragrance, and taste, and all the ingredients and seasonings are of the highest grade,” Zhu Yiqun said with satisfaction.

“You call yourself a lover of fine food, Fellow Daoist Zhu. How would you rank the dishes here?” Song Changsheng asked, sipping his wine.

Zhu Yiqun smiled, then said confidently, “Of all I’ve tasted, Jade Delicacy House ranks in my top five. But if I include all the places I know of, it drops to beyond fiftieth.”

Song Changsheng picked up a piece of fish. The exquisite flavor astonished him. Hearing Zhu Yiqun’s words, he asked in disbelief, “Only in the top five? You’ve tasted four that are even better?”

“Of course. Though, of those, three are places you wouldn’t know,” Zhu Yiqun replied with certainty.

“Then there’s one I do know?” Song Changsheng frowned in thought—within Lingzhou, none could compare to Jade Delicacy House.

Seeing his puzzled look, Zhu Yiqun grinned mischievously, pointing to his own nose with a chubby finger. “It’s me, Fellow Daoist. Wouldn’t you say you know me?”

“You, Fellow Daoist? Aren’t you a gourmet? Do you also practice the culinary arts?” Song Changsheng eyed him skeptically. Among cultivators, to claim culinary skills meant being a true spirit chef, not merely knowing how to wield a skillet.

“You underestimate me. How can a lover of good food not know how to cook? I am, in fact, a first-grade supreme medicinal chef,” Zhu Yiqun announced solemnly, cupping his hands in salute.

This time, Song Changsheng was genuinely surprised. Medicinal chefs were a truly rare profession, second only to swordsmiths in rarity. He hadn’t expected the plump man to have such a talent.

“It seems you still have your doubts. In that case, allow me to give you a taste.”

Zhu Yiqun took a small porcelain vial from his sleeve, uncorked it, and sprinkled some yellowish-brown powder over the dried meat. With pride, he said, “This is my own special seasoning. I’m not boasting, but no matter the dish, a sprinkle of this will elevate the flavor to new heights. Please, try it.”

Still a bit skeptical, Song Changsheng picked up a piece of the dried meat. After discreetly confirming it was safe, he placed it in his mouth.

As he chewed, his eyes widened in astonishment…