Courtyard House: In times of famine, my hamster became a spirit.

The waiter cautiously pushed open the heavy mahogany door of the private room a crack.

Originally, this small restaurant, which was exclusively for high-level receptions, was filled with fresh air and bright, clean windows. The high-ranking leader was holding a teacup, chatting and laughing with several former subordinates from the Ministry of Metallurgy who were accompanying him, reminiscing about the glorious past. The atmosphere was harmonious.

However, with the opening of that door, this harmony was brutally shattered in an instant.

"Cough...cough cough!"

A highly aggressive smell seeped in through the crack in the door.

It wasn't just the spiciness of chili peppers; it also carried the bitter, burnt taste of oil carbonized at high temperatures, and a pungent, smoky smell that made your throat tighten.

The leader's smile froze instantly, and he stopped mid-sentence.

He subconsciously raised his hand, covering his mouth and nose with his wide sleeve, his forehead furrowed into a deep frown.

"What's that smell?" The senior leader's voice, muffled behind his sleeve, carried a hint of displeasure. "Is your factory's ventilation system broken? Why does it smell like burning rubber?"

Li, the deputy factory director sitting at the lower end, felt his heart skip a beat.

As the guest, he was closest to the door, and when the smell hit him, he almost couldn't help but sneeze.

What a smell it was! It was like throwing a handful of dried chili peppers into a steel furnace. Apart from the pungent smell, there was no pleasant aroma at all.

Cold sweat streamed down Deputy Factory Director Li's head, soaking the back of his collar.

But he was, after all, a seasoned veteran of the officialdom, and after a brief moment of mental lapse, his brain quickly restarted and forcibly took over the stiff facial muscles.

"Boss, your nose is amazing!" Deputy Factory Director Li forced a fawning smile, leaning forward slightly to adopt an air of "you are unaware of this." "This isn't about burning rubber; it's a technique in authentic Sichuan cuisine—called 'qiang guo'! Our chef said the soul of Sichuan cuisine lies in this 'qiang'—the stronger the 'qiang,' the more authentic the flavor!"

As he spoke, he gave the waiter, who was standing frozen at the door, a fierce look that clearly said: What are you still standing there for? Bring it up!

The high-ranking leader lowered his sleeves with a hint of disbelief, but the sharpness in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest: "Spicy pot? I've lived in Sichuan for so many years, and I've never smelled such a... such a pungent spicy pot smell."

At that moment, the waiter came in carrying a tray.

As the distance closed, the acrid smell grew stronger, almost like holding a burning coal stove.

"Mapo tofu...please have a taste, sir." The waiter's voice trembled as he put down the plate and fled to a corner.

All eyes were focused on the white porcelain plate, which was one foot in diameter.

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

If the smell just now was a "biological weapon," then the visual effect now is "mental pollution."

The so-called red oil in the plate was not the bright, clear red that whets the appetite, but a murky, dark red, with a thick layer of black residue floating on the surface—chili shells and peppercorns that had been fried until completely charred.

The tofu block, which should have been white and intact, had been broken into pieces of varying sizes, with the edges even bearing the scorched yellow color of a fire.

The dish looked dry and greasy, like a plate of leftovers just pulled out of a garbage can.

The high-ranking leader had already picked up his chopsticks, ready to give the host face. But when his gaze fell on the dish, his steady, large hands, which had held guns and killed enemies, suddenly stopped in mid-air.

In those cloudy yet bright eyes, a look of disbelief and astonishment flashed.

He turned his head and stared intently at Deputy Factory Director Li. Although he didn't say anything, the meaning in his eyes was crystal clear: You call this a dish?

Deputy Factory Director Li never expected He Yuzhu to cook the food like this!

This is not Mapo Tofu at all.

"This..." Deputy Factory Director Li's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty. In this critical moment, he pulled out his all-purpose shield, "Boss, the presentation is indeed... indeed a bit rough. But that's precisely where our chef's brilliance lies!"

While wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Deputy Factory Director Li began to spout nonsense, attempting to use embellished language to mask the harsh reality: "This Chef He is a true successor of the Tan family cuisine, and used to cook for big capitalists. He calls it 'refining simple dishes, returning to the basics!' Don't be fooled by its unassuming appearance; the essence is locked inside. Just like us working class, we may look plain, but our hearts are warm!"

Seeing this, an accompanying officer quickly chimed in to smooth things over: "Yes, yes, old commander, I've heard before that some masters of cooking pay attention to the 'wok hei' (wok aroma) in their dishes. Perhaps this is a style we haven't seen before. Since it's served, why don't you... try it?"

Deputy Factory Director Li gave him a grateful look, then looked at the leader expectantly: "Yes, yes, leader, please have a bite! Chef He put a lot of thought into this dish and specially made it for you."

The senior leader looked at Deputy Factory Director Li's almost pleading face, and then at the awkward expressions of his old subordinates around him.

He sighed inwardly.

I'm here today to inspect the work, not to nitpick.

Even if someone below tries too hard to show off, if their intentions are good, they shouldn't be too disheartening.

Besides, he's a chef from the working class; we have to give him face.

"Alright." The top leader took a deep breath, as if he had made some major strategic decision.

He readjusted his grip on the chopsticks, picking through the pile of dark, grime in the plate, trying to find a piece of tofu that didn't look so carcinogenic.

Finally, he picked up a small piece of tofu covered in dark red oil residue.

At that moment, Deputy Factory Director Li's heart was in his throat, and he gripped the fabric of his trousers tightly at his knees.

He prayed frantically in his heart: Silly Zhu, please don't let me down. As long as the taste is acceptable, I'll get through this!

The high-ranking leader held his breath and put the piece of tofu into his mouth.

chew.

Deputy Factory Director Li's eyes widened like copper bells as he stared intently at the big boss's mouth.

Once, twice.

Suddenly, the leader stopped chewing.

His expression, which had been serious, became extremely distorted at this moment, as if he had unexpectedly crushed a bitter gall bladder.

Immediately afterwards, that weathered face flushed red, its brows furrowed tightly, and its eyes widened, as if it had suffered some kind of tremendous physical shock.

"Smack!!!"

A loud bang shook the teacups on the table, causing them to jump.

The high-ranking leader slammed his ivory chopsticks heavily on the table, then grabbed a napkin and, disregarding all decorum, spat out what was in his mouth.

"Water! Water!" the big leader roared in a hoarse voice.

The waiter was so startled that he hurriedly handed over the teacup.

The high-ranking leader took it, gulped down several mouthfuls, rinsed his mouth, and spat it out. He rinsed his mouth three times before his ashen face finally calmed down a little.

The entire private room was deathly silent.

The smile on Deputy Factory Director Li's face hadn't even faded before it froze on his lips, looking both comical and terrifying.

He felt as if the bones in his legs had been removed, making them so weak that he couldn't stand up at all.

"Is this the successor of the Tan family cuisine you were talking about?"

The top leader, panting heavily, pointed at the plate of tofu on the table that looked like a disaster, his voice not loud, but filled with chilling anger: "Is this what you call showing importance?"

Deputy Factory Director Li stood up shakily, his lips trembling: "Leader...is it...too spicy?"

"Spicy? This isn't spicy at all!"

The top leader waved his hand, pointed at the dish, and began to complain:

"The Sichuan peppercorns are all burnt! They taste like burnt charcoal and are bitter! Is this even edible?"

"That fermented soybean paste wasn't cooked through at all! It tasted like raw, moldy beans, and the stench was overwhelming! Is this what you call 'cooked enough'?"

"And this tofu! The outside is piping hot, but the inside is still cold! Is this what you call making simple food exquisite? Is this what you call returning to nature?"

The senior leader grew increasingly agitated, his chest heaving violently. His hawk-like eyes glared at Deputy Factory Director Li: "Back in my day, when I was gnawing on leather belts in the grasslands, I'd never eaten anything this awful! This is utterly wasteful of food! This isn't cooking, this is poisoning!"

boom--!

A thunderbolt seemed to explode in Deputy Factory Director Li's mind.

Burnt Sichuan peppercorns...

Raw, unpalatable fermented soybean paste...

These comments... why do they sound so familiar?

In a flash, Deputy Factory Director Li recalled the inner monologue of Zhou Jianguo, whom he regarded as an ant, in that corner of the canteen hall ten minutes earlier.

"The dried chilies char instantly upon hitting the pan, and the bitterness comes out first..."

"They added water before fully rendering the chili oil..."

Word for word.

It's exactly the same word!

The words of Zhou Jianguo, whom he had driven away, the young man who could determine the failure of a dish simply by smelling it, became a cruel reality at this moment, slamming hard onto his head.

A tremendous sense of fear overwhelmed Deputy Factory Director Li.

This is no longer a matter of saving face; this is an accident!

"I'm so sorry, boss! I'm so sorry!" Deputy Factory Director Li bent over at a ninety-degree angle, cold sweat pouring down his face. "I...I'll handle it right away! This...this must be a mistake, I'll replace him immediately..."

"No need!"

The senior leader coldly interrupted him, his eyes filled with disappointment and disgust.

He stood up, threw the napkin he had used to wipe his mouth heavily on the table, and didn't even glance at Deputy Factory Director Li.

"If you don't even have the most basic professional ethics, and can't even control the most basic taste, how can you talk about doing a good job in production? How can you talk about serving the people?"

The high-ranking leader turned his back to the dining table and said, "Take this dish away. Tell the kitchen staff that if this is how Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill treats its guests, then they might as well not eat this meal!"

"Withdraw! Withdraw immediately!" Deputy Factory Director Li shouted at the waiter like a madman, his voice trembling with tears.

The waiter was so startled he almost dropped the plate. He hurriedly picked up the almost untouched plate of Mapo Tofu and fled the private room in a disheveled state.

As the door closed again, the air pressure inside the private room dropped to an extreme low.

Deputy Factory Director Li slumped in his chair, his face ashen.

He knew that today's matter was over.

And that fool Zhu, who confidently claimed he could do it with his eyes closed, has truly dragged himself into the deepest abyss this time.

Meanwhile, in a corner of the cafeteria hall.

Zhou Jianguo was slowly swallowing the last bite of the soft, sweet braised pork. He turned his head slightly and watched the waiter carry the plate out of the private room as if his life depended on it, heading straight for the kitchen.

The burnt smell emanating from the plate was clearly audible even from a distance.

"Looks like it'll be my turn soon."