"You're going head to head with Su Mingyi's technical perfection by making noodles?" Ming whispered, looking over her shoulder at the diagram on her tablet. "Are you sure about this?"
Wei Jia didn't look up, her focus completely on her work. She used the knife Li Shiyan had gifted her to cut a piece of of ginger so thin that it was translucent.
"Not just noodles, Ming. The heart of the dish is the sauce, and the heart of the sauce is this." She gestured with the knife towards a simmering pot from which a complex aroma was rising.
"That's the chili oil?" Ming asked, leaning closer. "It smells incredible. It's not just spicy. It smells like a whole spice market."
"Because it is." Wei Jia said. "This is my philosophy in a pot. I'm not just infusing oil, I'm telling a story. I'm capturing the soul of a Chengdu street corner at midnight."
She explained her concept~ Deconstructed Dan Dan Noodles.
"But 'deconstructed' is their language." Ming argued. "They'll say you're trying to play their game and failing."
"Let them. They deconstruct to sterilize, to make food bland. I'm deconstructing to amplify. To put every essential element under a magnifying glass so they can't pretend it isn't there."
She began to list the components, her voice filled with passion.
"First, the noodles." She began. "A single, unbroken strand, coiled like a dragon. It's pure technique. Then, the pork. I don't want a messy crumble, but a single, perfectly seared disc, bursting with flavor and wok hei. And the greens? Blanched pea shoots, bright green, still tasting of the garden. It's a fine dining plate."
"It sounds nice." Ming said, still skeptical. "But too simple for Dan Dan noodles."
"That's the trap. Because then comes the sauce. And the soul of the sauce is the chili oil. It's not just heat. It's the mala: the numbing citrus of Sichuan peppercorns, the smoky depth of three kinds of chili, the warmth of star anise and cassia. It's everything they try to refine out of existence. Mingyi will present something that's technically perfect and emotionally void. My dish will be technically perfect and emotionally overwhelming. Her food speaks to the head. Mine will speak to the gut. It will make them remember what it feels like to crave something."
"That's great. I can't wait to see their reactions when you'll win." Ming grinned.
"Even I can't." She replied with a smirk. "Ming, you should leave now. I will mange on my own."
"Okay!! But don't forget to tell me if you need anything." Ming told her.
She nodded with a smile and he left. That night, inside the lab, Wei Jia worked alone.
If you lose, you will personally apologize to Mingyi in writing.
These words echoed in her mind again and again.
Her phone buzzed. It was Xiao Lin.
"Jie? Are you still working? It's almost midnight, I was waiting for your call." He asked in a sleepy voice.
"Almost done, Lin Lin. Just watching over the final infusion. It's the most important part. You can't rush it."
"Are you going to win tomorrow?"
"I have to." She whispered , more to herself than to him. "There's a lot involved in this."
"I know you will." He said with surity. "You're the best. Just don't burn yourself out, okay?"
"I won't. Now, go to sleep."
She ended the call and looked at the oil. It was perfect. A deep, clear, red liquid that held all her hope and defiance. It was her grandmother's wisdom, her own street skill, and her burning rage, all captured in a single, fragrant blend. This wasn't just an oil, it was her entire argument against him, against Mingyi.
She carefully poured the oil into an airtight container. With a black marker, she wrote on the container in large, clear letters.
DO NOT TOUCH.
She placed it in the cooled storage unit.
You will not ignore this. You will taste this, and you will know who I am.
The lab was cold when she arrived the next morning. Her phone rang, it was her brother again.
"I couldn't sleep. I kept dreaming you were on one of those TV cooking shows. You were making dragon shaped noodles."
Wei Jia smiled.
"No dragons today, Lin Lin. Just perfect noodles."
The first round of judging began in less than three hours. Everything had to be perfect.
"You're going to be amazing, Jie," He said. "They're going to taste your food and finally understand."
"And I can't wait for that."
"Okay! Jie!! All the best!!! Don't take too much stress. Don't worry about the result. I know you're the best!!!" He gave her a line of instructions.
"Okay okay!! Thank you Xiao Lin. Now, go get ready for school. I don't want you to be late." She smiled.
"Okay."
Wei Jia disconnected the call, and went straight to the cooling unit.
This was it. The final step. The moment her entire argument came together on a single plate.
She saw the container, and brought it out.
This is the fragrance of the soul of our family. This is everything Grandma taught me, everything I learned on the street, all in one bottle.
She opened the lid and brought it to her nose, expecting a fragrant smell. But she immediately recoiled as if she'd been burned.
The smell was wrong. It wasn't the nutty, aromatic smell of her slow infused masterpiece. It was a sour, acrid, rancid stench like the smell of old, spoiled cooking oil that had gone bad weeks ago.
Her mind refused to process it. She stared into the container. The color was off, a pale, cloudy orange instead of a deep, clear red. It wasn't her oil. Someone had carefully replaced her oil with this garbage. This wasn't an accident. This was a message. An act of malice to humiliate her.
"No. She whispered. "No, no, no." She picked up the container, shaking it as if that could somehow change the rancid liquid back into her oil. "It took twelve hours."
Panic engulfed her. The competition started in less than three hours. There was no time to toast the spices, no time to do the slow, careful infusion. Her entire dish, her entire philosophy, was ruined. Without the oil, her "Deconstructed Dan Dan Noodles" were a soulless joke. It was a plate of plain noodles, bland pork, and unseasoned greens. It was Su Mingyi's philosophy served on her plate.
The image of Li Shiyan's face floated in her mind.
If you lose, you will personally apologize to Mingyi in writing.
"The oil was the whole dish. It's over. I've lost before the I had even begun." She muttered to herself.
Trying to think of what she could do now?? Thinking of more options, a thought came to her mind.
"I'll improvise."
She walked towards her workstation. She grabbed the wok. She picked up the knife.
"They want to see the future of the wok?" A dangerous smile touching her lips. "Fine."
"I'll show them what fire really looks like."
They thought they could break her by taking away her tools. They thought she was nothing without her prepared infusions. They had mistaken her planning for weakness.
But she wasn't what they think of her. She was a phoenix and phoenix always rise from the ashes.