Food: Randomly set up stalls, even the little guy is drooling.

Chen Haoran took it out of the insulated bag...

Half a steamed bun.

He was a little reluctant to part with it, as he had spent 300 yuan to buy the spot.

So he thought about it for a long time, then broke it in half to show his respect for Master Xie.

Xie Zong clearly didn't feel respected, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Xie Zong was unaware that this half-piece of cornbread was actually hard-earned, a fact that Chen Haoran could understand.

Xie Zong still took the half-eaten cornbread. In terms of aroma, the smell of this coarse grain was naturally far inferior to the pungent fragrance of white flour.

Just by touching it, you can tell it's made by a true expert. You can hardly feel the rough texture of the grains; the delicate yet solid feel on your fingertips is the ultimate expression of handcrafted skill.

He broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth.

Then, the master chef, who had been an apprentice since the age of 10 and had practiced making steamed buns for over 30 years, closed his eyes.

Chen Haoran noticed that Xie Zong's eyelids were trembling slightly. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he were swallowing or suppressing something.

Time passed second by second, leaving only the ticking of the clock.

About a minute later, Xie Zongcai opened his eyes.

His eyes held a complex mix of emotions, but Chen Haoran could see the shock in them.

"This cornbread..." Xie Zong's voice was somewhat low, "Good, really good."

"I've never seen a bun like this before, one that's bitter at first but sweet later, like savoring tea, or like tasting life itself."

"His greatest strength lies in precision; he possesses both human creativity and machine precision."

With each word he said, Chen Haoran's heart sank a little deeper.

"What I mean by 'precision' is," Xie Zong held up the remaining cornbread to his eyes as if examining a rare treasure, "that he will wait."

"wait?"

"Wait for the dough to rise fully, wait for the steam to rise, wait for the flavors to blend together," Xie Zong said slowly. "Waiting isn't about being slow, it's about being just right. Many times, we just apply fixed formulas to make existing recipes. This can certainly ensure that even apprentices can grasp a certain standard, and it does maintain our reputation. To put it nicely, it's called being meticulous, but ultimately it's just a passing grade."

"Once this becomes a habit, this standardized production method also prevents us from further developing the flavor."

"He knows this person. He knows exactly what each bun goes through and when it's ready to be served."

He paused, then looked at Chen Haoran, "This steamed bun is perfect; not a single part is almost the same, and not a single point is deducted. That's a perfect score."

Chen Haoran opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Don't even mention five thousand yuan," Xie Zong said slowly after finishing the last bit of his cornbread. "This isn't about the money anymore."

"I can't make cornbread like this, but I can try."

Chen Haoran felt he couldn't understand what the person in front of him was saying anymore. "What?"

"The form might be about 70-80% imitated. But the spirit is impossible to replicate." Xie Zong stood up and paced a couple of steps. "Most of the materials are easy to find, but the wild vegetables he used are probably authentic wild mustard greens. That alone is impossible to imitate."

"There's also the skill of kneading; too little and it's too firm, too much and it's overcooked. The most difficult part is mastering the heat; it's a skill, but even more so, it requires patience and composure."

He turned around and looked at Chen Haoran. "I can't do it. It's not modesty, I really can't."

Chen Haoran felt his throat go dry, and inwardly exclaimed, "Holy crap! I know the cornbread I buy on the roadside is delicious, but I never expected it to be this amazing!" "Then...who can make it?"

Xie Zong thought for a moment, "Perhaps my master could, but although he is a national-level master of steamed buns, it is ultimately just an honor. He is eighty-six years old, his hands tremble, and he hasn't touched the dough to make steamed buns for a long time."

"So, did this stall owner really make it?" Chen Haoran didn't know how skilled this stall owner was, but when compared to a national-level pastry master, it was quite astonishing.

"That's what I wanted to ask you." Xie Zong sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the bag of buns, his expression complex. "Mr. Chen, you said this is a roadside stall owner, in his early twenties?"

Chen Haoran answered honestly, "He looks no more than twenty-five years old."

"I've seen one person with such extraordinary talent when I was young," Xie Zong remarked.

Suddenly, Lu Feng's image flashed through Chen Haoran's mind. The young man stood behind the food cart, his movements swift yet composed. Steam blurred his face, revealing only his hands, which moved with fluid grace, kneading and pleating the dough.

"Let me try first." Xie Zong said seriously as he slowly kneaded the flour.

He approached each step with utmost care, and suddenly realized that he hadn't treated cooking this way in a long time.

I don't know when it started, was it after she became the head chef of Biranju?

He suddenly remembered a saying his master, Xie Mancang, had once said: "Once you lose your reverence for cooking, you also lose your original aspirations."

He suddenly understood the meaning of that sentence; he had been lost for a very long time.

Once the cornbread was made, it was put in a steamer and then taken out of the steamer.

The entire private kitchen was filled with delicious aromas.

Regular customers came over following the aroma, "Master Xie, what new kinds of buns have you come up with this time? They smell so good!"

"Hurry up and give it to everyone to try."

Xie Zong picked one up, took a bite, and said to his apprentice beside him, "Take this wild vegetable bun out and sell it."

Upon hearing this, Chen Haoran sensed a glimmer of hope and asked, "Master Xie, did you succeed?"

"Done?" Xie Zong chuckled self-deprecatingly. "If I were to rate my usual hibiscus buns at 60 points, these today would be an 80."

Chen Haoran thought for a moment, "So you just said that the one I brought is 100 points? Then with a little more effort, it should be close to that?"

Xie Zong sighed again, "This 80 points is my 80 points. Give it a try."

Chen Haoran took a steamed bun and took a bite.

It's fragrant, with a perfectly chewy texture, and is a type of bread you can't usually find.

But what about the bitterness of the wild vegetables? It seems to have been processed, and now it has a hint of the sweetness of wild vegetables.

Chen Haoran couldn't taste anything else.

He suddenly understood what Xie Zong meant: this kind of steamed bun is 80 points, and even if you make it to be perfect, you can't replicate the same taste.

The wild vegetable steamed buns at that stall deserve a perfect score because the maximum score is only 100.

"Young man, you just said at Fisherman's Wharf?"

Chen Haoran replied, "Yes, it's strange, they only sell it at 10 pm every night."

Xie Zong fell silent again.

This silence lasted even longer. So long that Chen Haoran thought he wouldn't speak again, before Xie Zong finally spoke slowly, his voice very soft, as if he were talking to himself:

"That's absolute self-confidence. But it's such a waste."

It was almost nine o'clock when Chen Haoran came out of Biranju.

He got back into the car, constantly thinking about what Master Xie Zong had said.

And there's a final invitation.

Has that young stall owner actually reached that level?