My name is Chen Mo, a retired cook. I just want to open a restaurant in a small town and live a stable life.
My restaurant has weird rules: I only cook three tables of food every night, and what I eat depends on my mood.
Everyone thought I was a poor cook until—
A Michelin-starred chef came to visit his restaurant and was crushed into pieces by me with a piece of carrot and felt proud;
The anorexic daughter took a bite of my food and cried as she regained the taste of her mother;
The underground boxing champion was being chased by his enemies. I poured a spoonful of hot oil on him to find a way out.
They respected me as the "God of Food" and begged me to come out, but I shook my head and refused.
I thought I could hide the past forever, until that day, a group of heavily armed mercenaries blocked the door of my store and pointed their guns at my wife who was taking a pregnancy test.
The leader sneered: "'Taotie', third on the international killer list, we finally found you."
I sighed and slowly tied on the old apron embroidered with steel guns and spatulas.
"I told you, don't touch my people during business hours."
