The cooking smoke was so choking it was hard to keep your eyes open.
Ye Chen kept tossing the wok without pause. With a flick of his left hand, the fried rice leaped into the air, flipped once, and landed neatly back in the pan. Each grain was distinct, coated in egg and gleaming golden in the firelight.
“Takeout! Egg fried rice for table three!” he called without looking up.
