Modern chef Song Yang flipped the pot, and the Kung Pao Chicken had just come out of the pot. The next second, the countdown on the wall exploded - he fell into an ancient cottage kitchen with his knife. Water seeped through the earthen walls, oil lamps flickered, and a scarred man blocked the door with a butcher knife. Song Yang picked up the iron pot and stewed rice with potatoes, bacon and rice. He calmed the audience and saved his life. But the stove suddenly opened a gap in space and time. Over the camera, in the modern kitchen, grandma's granddaughter Chen Niannian was staring at the empty pot in a daze. Two pieces of time and space are intertwined and sewn together in a strange pocket watch. Song Yang dug out his grandmother's relics. The paper was yellowed and the handwriting was scrawled: "There are some roads that you can't get out of if you walk in." He gripped the crown tightly and pressed it - where is the exit of this one-way kitchen? Whose life does the entrance lead to?
