Ouyang Mian, a modern three-Michelin-star chef, was transmigrated into the body of the lowest-ranking dishwasher at the Zuixian Restaurant. Her indenture cost three taels of silver, and her hands were so mangled she could barely hold chopsticks. But her extraordinary sense of taste was still intact: with one bite of spoiled porridge, she could taste the starch structure inside every grain of rice; her tongue could even detect the calcium and magnesium ions in well water.
Her first bowl of scorched rice filled Cui'er's stomach. A jar of pickled vegetables from beside the slop bucket made Zhou the Skinflint pull out eight taels of silver on the spot. Zhao Quanfu had spent twenty years at the stove without being able to tell whether food was salty or bland, but one taste was all she needed to expose his trembling hands. The heat in the stove, the knife work on the chopping board, the borrowed scent of meat in the steamer: all were her weapons.
Every dish awakened food energy, and every ten diners unlocked a new recipe. She climbed from washing dishes to commanding the kitchen, then went from the Zuixian Restaurant to the Imperial Kitchens. But Zhao Quanfu's cleaver was still stuck by the well, and Aunt Liu's eyes were still fixed on her lower back. Cui'er had just told her that Aunt Liu saw her give a beggar a steamed bun.
And her indenture was still locked away in Zhou the Skinflint's cashbox.
