After Ren Senjyu agreed to join them for dinner, Jun remained at the amusement park to wait for his shift to end, while Gustave and Daigo headed off to gather ingredients for what would undoubtedly become a memorable feast.
The supermarket's fluorescent lights cast everything in stark relief as Gustave surveyed the available ingredients with a chef's calculating eye. His mind was already assembling flavor profiles and cooking sequences—the intricate dance of timing that separated good meals from extraordinary ones.
"Let's see..." Gustave murmured, selecting a block of silky tofu, quality beef, and a bottle of doubanjiang bean paste.
Since the recipe called for only a small portion of beef, Gustave added celery stalks, pickled peppers, and fresh ginger to his cart. The beef would pull double duty in a stir-fried celery dish.
Continuing through the aisles, his eyes lit upon bags of dried soybeans. "Perfect! Fresh tofu pudding." In his traveling memories, he had remembered a kind old grandma that lived near him that often invited him to dinner, she had used gypsum powder and fermented cabbage brine to coagulate the soy milk. This supermarket lacked such traditional ingredients, so white vinegar would have to suffice.
His shopping expedition continued with methodical precision. Two large chicken thighs and raw peanuts joined the collection—ingredients for Kung Pao Chicken, that other pillar of Chinese cuisine's international reputation. At the seafood counter, a particularly lively sea bass caught his attention, its clear eyes and firm flesh promising excellent steamed fish.
"Can't forget the shrimp," Gustave mused, selecting the plumpest specimens available. With the seasonings already in his cart, spicy Sichuan-style prawns seemed inevitable.
Remembering that both Jun and young Ren were bearers of Nexus's light—a burden that demanded tremendous physical strength—Gustave splurged on fifteen premium abalone and dried shiitake mushrooms. The braised combination would provide serious nutritional support for their demanding battles.
Balance required vegetables alongside the protein-heavy lineup. A head of fresh cabbage would become hand-torn stir-fry, while several cucumbers promised a refreshing smashed salad. Finally, a white radish and pork ribs completed his vision—a warming soup to anchor the entire meal.
"Ten dishes total," Gustave calculated as he and Daigo lugged multiple shopping bags toward Jun's house. "Perfect for six people with appetites honed by supernatural combat."
As expected, the house stood empty upon their return. Shopping expeditions, regardless of the participants' dimensional origins, followed universal laws of time dilation.
"Daigo, call Camearra and tell them dinner approaches," Gustave instructed, already unpacking ingredients with practiced efficiency. "They should start heading back soon."
"Right!" Daigo fumbled for his phone, the device ringing twice before connecting. "Women never answer when they're deep in retail battle," he muttered good-naturedly.
Gustave began by soaking the soybeans in warm water—they'd need at least an hour to soften properly for the tofu pudding. Time management in multi-course meals was everything.
For his opening salvo, he chose smashed cucumber—a cold dish that actually improved with resting time, allowing the flavors to meld and penetrate the vegetable's crisp flesh.
After washing the cucumbers thoroughly, Gustave raised his cleaver with theatrical flair. "Remember, Daigo—never use cheap knives for smashing. They'll shatter and possibly take fingers with them."
Thwack! Thwack! The cleaver's flat side crushed each cucumber with controlled violence, creating irregular surfaces perfect for absorbing seasonings. He chopped the destroyed vegetables into bite-sized pieces, tossed them with salt and sugar, then set them aside to release their moisture.
While the cucumbers marinated, oil heated in his wok until it shimmered with potential. Raw peanuts went in with a satisfying sizzle, their pale surfaces gradually deepening to golden perfection. These would serve dual purposes—garnishing the cucumber salad and adding textural contrast to the Kung Pao chicken.
The fried peanuts emerged crispy and fragrant. While the oil remained blazing hot, Gustave prepared his cucumber dressing with quick efficiency—dried chilies, chili powder, and white sesame seeds in a small bowl. The hot oil poured over these aromatics released clouds of spicy fragrance that made Daigo's eyes water from across the kitchen.
Salt, oyster sauce, sugar, and rice vinegar completed the dressing. "Here, Daigo—mix this with the cucumbers when you're ready. I have nine more dishes demanding attention."
The radish and pork rib soup required the longest cooking time, so it claimed priority. Gustave blanched the ribs first, watching pink foam rise to the surface as blood and impurities leached out. Clean ribs went into fresh oil, browning lightly before receiving a generous pour of boiling water.
Salt seasoned the initial broth, which would simmer twenty to thirty minutes before the radish joined the party. Timing was everything—add the vegetables too early and they'd dissolve into mush, too late and they'd remain stubbornly crisp.
"The soybeans should be ready now," Gustave announced, testing their softness between his fingers. Jun's small juicer forced him to work in batches, but eventually all the beans became creamy soy milk.
Straining through cheesecloth removed the gritty residue, leaving only smooth liquid behind. "Grandma would have used these bean dregs for fermented pancakes," Gustave mused sadly. "Such waste feels almost criminal."
The filtered soy milk went into a heavy pot over medium heat, stirring constantly to prevent scorching. When it reached a rolling boil, carefully measured white vinegar created the chemical magic—proteins coagulating into silky curds while clear whey separated out.
"Tofu pudding without proper brine water feels like playing piano with mittens," Gustave grumbled, but the results still promised deliciousness.
The front door opened with perfect timing, admitting two shopping-laden women whose cheerful chatter filled the house.
"Mmmm, someone's making tofu!" Tu Shanyan's fox-enhanced nose identified the unmistakable aroma immediately. "That bean fragrance is absolutely divine!"
"Gustave's in the kitchen working his usual magic," Daigo replied, emerging from vegetable-washing duty with damp hands and a satisfied expression.
"Finally! I've been dying to taste his cooking properly," Tu Shanyan declared, practically bouncing with anticipation. "You have no idea how much I drooled watching him cook during those spy days..."
With the tofu pudding setting properly, Gustave launched into his main cooking sequence.
Beef sliced thin, chicken thighs deboned and diced, both proteins receiving careful marinades of salt, oyster sauce, soy sauce, cornstarch, and oil. While they absorbed those flavors, the sea bass underwent its transformation—whole fish stuffed with ginger and scallions before entering the steamer.
The steamed fish emerged tender and aromatic, its clear juices pooling in the serving dish. Gustave discarded the excess liquid, arranged fresh ginger julienne and red pepper strips across the fish's surface, then shocked them with smoking-hot oil. The sizzle released a cloud of fragrance that made everyone's mouth water.
A final drizzle of steamed fish soy sauce completed the masterpiece—simple techniques elevating fresh ingredients into something transcendent.
Kung Pao Chicken demanded proper sauce preparation first. Salt, light and dark soy sauces, white pepper, black vinegar, sugar, and water starch combined in careful proportion. Hot oil awakened dried chilies and Sichuan peppercorns before the marinated chicken joined the dance. Scallion segments and garlic slices added layers of flavor, while the pre-mixed sauce created glossy coating for every morsel. Those golden peanuts provided textural punctuation marks throughout the dish.
The celery beef stir-fry followed similar principles—seared protein removed and set aside while aromatics bloomed in hot oil. Pickled peppers and fresh chilies provided heat, while the celery retained crucial crunch through brief cooking. Everything reunited in the wok for final seasoning and a sprinkle of fresh cilantro.
Spicy shrimp required meticulous preparation—heads and legs removed, backs split to extract the dark veins. Medium heat fried the cleaned shellfish until their shells became crispy and sweet, oil bubbling around their curved forms. Minced garlic, chilies, and bean paste created the aromatic base for their return journey, high heat keeping everything lively while the sauce reduced to glossy perfection.
The braised abalone represented serious luxury—each mollusk scored in crosshatch patterns before joining rehydrated shiitake mushrooms in fragrant oil. Dark and light soy sauces, sugar, oyster sauce, and white pepper created the braising liquid, while gentle simmering concentrated all those flavors into something approaching culinary poetry.
Hand-torn cabbage concluded the vegetable lineup—rough handling releasing the leaves' natural sweetness before high-heat stir-frying with garlic, dried chilies, and a splash of black vinegar for brightness.
As Gustave plated the final dish, voices approached the front door. Jun's familiar tones mixed with younger, more tentative responses—Ren Senjyu had arrived for his fateful dinner.