Old Master He moved with a measured grace, his hands steady as he reached for a row of small porcelain jars stacked neatly along the shelf. He tapped the lid of one and slid it forward, releasing a sharp, floral fragrance that immediately filled the air.
"These are the first.." he said, pointing to the array. "Star anise, dried osmanthus blossoms, aged ginger, Shaoxing wine, Sichuan peppercorns. These will form the foundation of the Osmanthus River Fish. You'll need patience when coaxing the fragrance. Too much heat, and the osmanthus burns. Too little, and the fish becomes flat and soggy. Balance is the life of this dish."
Mianmian nodded quickly, her eyes following every movement of his hands. She committed each word to memory, as though engraving them on her heart.
