Qin Huai quietly watched Cao Guixiang cutting yam.
Cao Guixiang's knife was very fast, her movements were simple, cutting yam was no different from cutting a radish. Qin Huai felt that Cao Guixiang had neither hesitation nor thought; she was simply cutting yam by instinct, the knife was so fast that you could see an afterimage, and in almost a blink of an eye, a yam was sliced.
Qin Huai glanced at the yam slices, they were evenly thick, as if copied and pasted, slightly thinner than what he had cut just now.
"When your knife skills are proficient enough, you can cut as quickly as I just did. But fast doesn't mean good, many chefs pursue speed, thinking the faster they are, the better their knife skills must be, often making many mistakes. In fact, the time you take on these few cuts won't affect your work for the day, and going a bit slower won't affect the final product."
