Taste Again

She started with three copper coins and a bowl of porridge. At the age of seventeen, he stood alone at the gate of Bianjing City with a bald kitchen knife and half a book of incomprehensible manuscripts. No one taught her, so she looked through the files on her own. No one helped her, so she found a successor on her own. Every time I cook a dish, the scars on my hands become more intense, and the fire in front of the stove gets hotter. Embroidered cakes, face-changing fish, lacquered feasts, frosted paintings - one by one, what is produced is not just a dish, but also justice that has been stolen. She's not complaining. She is cooking. Make it for those who will never forget it once they taste it. Tongues don't lie, tastes don't lie. A table of the most ordinary home-cooked meals is more credible than three rejected letters of exposure. This is the story on the stove. The fire in the kitchen is not extinguished, and the world is full of flavor.