Shen Yue, a five-star executive chef, transmigrates to the Tang dynasty during the Zhenguan era, inherits a dilapidated little tavern, and binds himself to the God of Cookery System.
All he wants is to cook in peace and run the tavern well. Until one day, a soft, round little girl in a pomegranate-red jacket is lured inside by the smell of meat. “Big brother, does this yummy-smelling food taste good?”
From then on, he gains a new title: the Tang dynasty's number-one doting royal chef.
Does Princess Sizi want something sweet? There's plenty of pudding and starry-sky lollipops.
Is Sizi frail? One bowl of medicinal congee every day, served personally by big brother.
Does Li Shimin come incognito to investigate? A bowl of Dongpo pork takes care of him.
Is the empress plagued by asthma? His special recipe is just the cure.
He thought transmigrating just meant opening a restaurant somewhere in ancient times, until the System displayed a mission: “Defy Heaven's Mandate: Extend Princess Jinyang's life against fate. Countdown: ten years.”
He opens the keepsakes left by his late father and finds a rusty horizontal saber and a surviving fragment of a saber manual, as big as a bowl.
He practices saber techniques by the stove and secretly studies the way generals strike while surrounded by cooking smoke. There's no shortcut on this path, only day after day of chopping vegetables, cleaving bones, tossing the wok, and flipping food with a spatula.
There's also a quiet young woman who steps out of the palace and into his smoky kitchen to ask him, “Is it hard to get through things alone?”
He is stunned for a long moment, then replies, “It is. But some things, no matter how hard they are, you have to get through on your own.”
She says nothing more. But from that day on, she brings an extra lantern every time she visits.
He trains in martial arts until he's just capable enough to protect her, and cooks so well that even the Khan of Heaven secretly gives his approval.
He stakes his life on a pot of Nine-Turn Nourishing Soup, freezing three fingers, just to win over the girl who stands on tiptoe to peer around his doorframe
