Era: You're asked to cook a home-style dish, but you cook Wellington.

The next day, in the same venue, only the original hundred or so control panels had been removed, leaving only two.

The three judges sat on a high platform.

Xu Qinyun wore a dark red cheongsam today, paired with gold-rimmed glasses. She didn't look 40 at all; instead, she looked like a mature 30-year-old woman, the kind of woman Boss Cao liked.

At this moment, she slightly adjusted the back of her cheongsam, sat down in the chair, and looked at Liu Jianye.

"Boss Liu must have had a bad night's sleep. How about we have the contestants make you a calming soup later?"

Her voice was elegant yet slightly provocative.

Yesterday, this jerk ruined my mood, but when I saw the media criticizing Liu Jianye last night, my mood improved a lot, and a faint smile appeared on my usually icy face.

Upon hearing this, Liu Jianye almost lost his temper and started cursing, but he thought better of it and gritted his teeth, swallowing his disgust.

He glared at Xu Qinyun, wanting to say something, but then, thinking of the media watching below, he could only force out a smile that looked worse than a grimace.

"Editor-in-Chief Xu is really joking. This is my first time in Yicheng too. I went out to look for collaborations last night and did stay up a bit late."

After hearing this, Xu Qinyun snorted coldly.

"Whether you're looking for partnerships or running off to some foot massage parlor, you know the answer in your heart."

Upon hearing this, Liu Jianye truly couldn't hold back.

"you!"

Looking into Xu Qinyun's eyes, he could only swallow the rest of his words.

"I've been meeting with the local food association these past two days, so I've been walking a lot and I'm exhausted. I had no choice but to get a massage."

Liu Jianye felt extremely aggrieved, but when he thought of the media's angry attack on him last night, and was afraid of what the magazine editor-in-chief might say, he could only force a smile.

Xu Qinyun gave a cold snort. She knew she couldn't rush things. She raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.

Seeing that the two had stopped arguing, Gu Jingzhou finally spoke.

"Alright, stop arguing. There's a competition going on down there. What kind of behavior is this?"

"Liu Jianye, don't think I don't know your tricks. You know how important this competition is. I hope you do what a judge should do."

Gu Jingzhou stopped short of saying much, but his words carried an undeniable air of authority.

Liu Jianye broke out in a cold sweat instantly.

Even if Gu Jingzhou hadn't said it, he understood that things couldn't be messed up like yesterday. Anyway, Zou Li wasn't here today, so he could judge things however he wanted.

Thinking of this, he smiled ingratiatingly: "Mr. Gu, you're joking. As judges, of course we must be fair and impartial. Rest assured, today we will only look at the dishes, not the people."

After he finished speaking, Gu Jingzhou nodded slightly, his expression softening.

"Alright, today's competition theme is noodles, so let's just watch how they perform."

Below the stage, Gao Yang stood in front of the control panel, looking at the Sand Tower opposite him.

Shata was dressed in a white chef's uniform, his face was cold and stern, and he didn't say a word.

Only now have these media outlets noticed Shata's appearance, shocked that there was such a person participating in the competition.

"Who's that? She's quite pretty."

"I checked, her name is Shata, and she's one of the contestants who passed the preliminary round, but I don't know why we didn't notice her."

Indeed, Shata gives the impression of deliberately minimizing his presence, standing silently in front of the control panel.

Gao Yang looked at her.

"Shata, is it? Judging from the name, you're not Chinese."

Shata's eyelashes trembled.

Gao Yang waited for a long time, but Shata didn't reply. He touched his nose and prepared to turn around and get his knife.

All Gao Yang heard was a soft "hmm" from Shata, so softly that he almost thought he was hallucinating.

"What did you say?"

Gao Yang asked again.

This time, however, Shata did not reply.

She stood in front of the worktable, looking at the flour in front of her, and didn't do anything for a moment.

Seeing that Shata was no longer responding, Gao Yang stopped talking and turned his gaze to the noodle ingredients in front of him.

The theme is noodles, but there is no requirement to specify whether it should be Chinese steamed buns or Western pastries.

He gently placed his palm on the bag of flour.

This is Italian No. 00 flour, which is finely ground, resulting in a smooth texture and clean flavor when made into pasta, making it perfect for pasta.

Gao Yang already had a plan in mind: he wanted to make Italian-style crispy foie gras musta.

He piled the flour into a volcano shape, cracked an egg yolk in the middle, and sprinkled it with a little olive oil and water.

His wrists kneaded the dough at a steady pace, his fingertips gathering the flour.

Before long, the originally loose flour gathered together, turning a slightly yellowish color.

The addition of olive oil makes the dough incredibly smooth; you can even stretch it into a thin, transparent film by hand.

Taking this opportunity, he looked at the sand tower opposite.

At this moment, Shata also moved, except that Shata was holding high-gluten flour in his hand.

"Is he making noodles?"

Gao Yang was somewhat surprised.

Unless it's cold noodles, regular soup noodles will be extremely hot in this environment and not suitable for consumption in a short time. However, they will clump together if left for too long. If not handled properly, not only will the wheat aroma not be released, but it may even affect the toppings for the noodles.

He didn't quite understand why Shata wanted to make ramen.

But Shata ignored him and moved even faster.

She quickly kneaded the flour into small balls, then gathered them together into a large dough ball.

The dough seemed to come alive in her hands, moving left and right, the yeast in the dough absorbing all the air and expanding continuously in the bowl.

"Gao Yang."

Shata suddenly spoke.

"I envy you so much for being able to be a real chef and live in this world."

"Do you know? I was picked up by the gambling king when I was a child. He required me to act according to his instructions and did not allow me to do anything out of line."

"But at that time I had no choice but to follow orders in order to get food and survive."

She spoke a lot in one breath, which was completely different from her usual self.

Gao Yang's kneading motion suddenly stopped, his fingers still resting on the warm, pliable dough, and he was slightly taken aback.

Gao Yang never expected that this taciturn foreign girl would say so much to him on the field.

The noise of the stadium seemed to be completely isolated at this moment; the discussions from the audience and the clicking of camera shutters from the media gradually faded into the distance.

Shata lowered his eyes, his hands kneading the dough like a machine, each stroke with the same force.

Look at those cool and aloof eyes; they now seem somewhat lost and weary.

"You know what? I never had a choice. I didn't like being a chef. I was just an obedient pawn following the gambling king, begging him to give me a bite to eat."

"I originally had more than twenty sisters like me, but some of them were disobedient, and some were disliked by the gambling king for being too incompetent, so they all starved to death. Only I have survived to this day."

"I've inquired about you. I like your smile. If I could, I really wouldn't want to be your enemy."

After he finished speaking, the gambling king in the audience suddenly stood up. Seeing that the situation was not right, he muttered something to himself.

The next second, Shata's body suddenly stiffened, his face froze, his eyes glazed over, and he stopped speaking.