After the divorce, he took care of his child and sold fried rice; his ex-wife was filled with regret

"Let me ask you this: how did you make this Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup in less than two days? How did you soak the dried abalone until it was fully rehydrated? How did you simmer the broth to get this flavorful broth?!"

Zhou Zhengye slammed his hand on the table, making the teacups on it vibrate loudly.

"Do you think I, Zhou Zhengye, have never eaten anything good? You think you can fool me into investing 3 billion yuan by taking some semi-finished seafood from the market, adding some MSG and concentrated broth, stewing it up, putting it in an earthenware pot?"

"Are you insulting my tongue, or are you treating our cooperation like a joke?!"

Upon hearing this, Qin Donghai's face turned deathly pale.

It's over. It's completely over.

Trying to teach a fish to swim! Showing off your skills in front of Guan Yu!

To order Buddha Jumps Over the Wall in front of someone who grew up eating authentic Fujian cuisine! Isn't that just asking for trouble?

"Mr. Zhou! Please let me explain! This is absolutely not just a way to brush you off!"

Qin Donghai stood up anxiously, sweating profusely, trying to smooth things over, "Boss Lin's skills are renowned throughout Jiangcheng, he would never use a half-finished product..."

"No explanation needed."

Zhou Zhengye raised his hand to interrupt him.

He glanced at the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, and his expression turned completely cold.

"I originally wanted to test the sincerity of the Qin family. Now it seems you have to resort to such tricks even for a meal. I don't trust your business reputation."

Zhou Zhengye picked up his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair and made a move to stand up:

"There's no need for this meal. You should find someone else to handle that project in the south of the city."

"No! Uncle Zhou! Wait a minute!"

Qin Lang was terrified and rushed over to block Zhou Zhengye. If this 3 billion yuan deal fell through, his father would definitely break his legs.

"Uncle Zhou, even if you're leaving, please take a look at these dishes first! My brother Lin never does anything to ruin his reputation. Just one look, please?!"

These words immediately created an oppressive atmosphere in the private room.

Qin Donghai slumped into a chair, his legs giving way, his eyes filled with despair. Qin Lang stared intently at Lin Fan, his shirt soaked with cold sweat.

Zhou Zhengye stood by the table without sitting down.

He stared coldly at the dull-looking purple clay jar, then turned to look at Lin Fan, his eyes filled with scrutiny and undisguised contempt.

"Okay, considering we've known each other for so many years, fine, I'll take it."

Zhou Zhengye pointed to the jar on the table and said:

"Let's not even talk about how there's simply not enough time. Just look at the containers you've used to serve the food."

He reached out and tapped the outer wall of the purple clay jar, producing a dull "thump-thump" sound.

"Coarse clay pottery jar. This type of clay has uneven density and extremely poor thermal conductivity."

"A genuine Buddha Jumps Over the Wall requires a custom-made double-layered fine porcelain jar to ensure that the dozens of ingredients inside are heated evenly during the long simmering process. How can you possibly maintain a stable heat in a cheap, rough earthenware pot sold on the street for a few dozen dollars?"

Zhou Zhengye then pointed to the hemp rope and lotus leaf used to seal the opening:

"And then there's the seal. Ordinary hemp rope, when heated, will emit a pungent, fishy smell. This smell will seep into the soup through the gaps and ruin the flavor of the whole pot."

"With this shoddy presentation, you're telling me this is the grand finale?"

Qin Donghai sat in the chair, reached out and tugged at his tie, feeling a little out of breath.

He didn't understand any of the details Zhou Zhengye mentioned. But he could tell that Zhou was truly knowledgeable and his points were insightful.

Qin Lang was so anxious that he kept wringing his hands. He wanted to speak up for Lin Fan, but he found that he couldn't get a word in edgewise in this area of ​​expertise and could only watch helplessly.

Faced with Zhou Zhengye's barrage of questions and provocations, Lin Fan stood still, his expression completely unmoved.

He listened quietly, neither refuting the material of the pottery jar nor explaining the issue of the hemp rope.

Lin Fan simply looked at Zhou Zhengye and asked in a calm tone:

"Does Mr. Zhou know how to cook?"

Zhou Zhengye sneered: "I don't know anything about cooking. But I've eaten more good food than you've ever seen. Ingredients don't lie, and neither does the cooking time."

"Since you know about food, you should know whether the standard for judging a dish is the jar in which it's served or the taste of the dish itself," Lin Fan countered.

Zhou Zhengye was momentarily speechless.

He squinted and looked Lin Fan up and down.

A cook at a roadside stall was exposed for faking his work, but instead of feeling guilty, he dared to question the person in return.

"Okay. Then let's talk about the dish itself."

Zhou Zhengye took a step forward, staring intently at Lin Fan:

"Old Qin just said that you used top-grade netted abalone that's been around for over ten years in this jar."

"Yes." Lin Fan nodded.

"Absurd!" Zhou Zhengye's voice suddenly rose, tinged with anger. "Ten-year-old dried abalone, as hard as a rock! Just soaking it in clean water, changing the water repeatedly to remove the fishy smell, would take a full three days!"

"After soaking, it needs to be simmered in a rich broth made from old hen and pork ribs for two days and two nights to soften the center of the abalone and bring out the sugary gelatinous substance inside."

Zhou Zhengye slammed his hand on the table, pointing at the purple clay jar:

"Old Qin and I only finalized today's dinner appointment the day before yesterday afternoon. Let's say it's been a full forty-eight hours!"

"Tell me, how did you manage to fully develop a ten-year-old abalone in just forty-eight hours?"

"Are you using strong alkalis or chemicals to force it to ripen? Or did you simply buy some cheap, frozen abalone from the seafood market for a few dozen yuan per kilogram and try to pass it off as top-quality dried seafood to fool me?"

This statement is logically sound and unassailable.

Qin Donghai's face instantly turned ashen.

The timing doesn't match. That's a fatal flaw. To someone in the know, this is impossible to cover up.

The 3 billion yuan investment was completely wasted because of this one dish that backfired.

Qin Lang panicked too. He turned to Lin Fan and asked anxiously in a low voice, "Brother Lin, how did you prepare this dried abalone?"

Lin Fan didn't look at Qin Lang; his gaze was fixed on Zhou Zhengye.

"I didn't use any chemicals. Nor did I use fresh abalone to impersonate it."

Lin Fan's tone remained calm. "The abalone is fully cooked. And there's been enough time."

"Stubborn to the end," Zhou Zhengye snorted.

He was convinced that Lin Fan was just putting on a brave face. How could a small-time street vendor possibly defy the laws of physics?

"Since you won't shed a tear until you see the coffin, then I'll expose your trick."

Zhou Zhengye took a half step back, crossed his arms, and adopted a posture of watching a good show.

"Open it. I want to see what exactly is inside this Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup you've made over the past few hours."

Qin Donghai closed his eyes, unable to bear looking any longer.

Qin Lang took a deep breath; his palms were sweaty.

Lin Fan didn't waste any more words. He reached out and pinched the hemp rope sealing the mouth of the purple clay jar.

I was just about to untie the knot.

"Wait a minute," Zhou Zhengye suddenly interrupted again.

Lin Fan stopped what he was doing and looked up at him.