You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

A salty sea breeze blew across the top deck of the cruise ship.

Let the arrogance and confidence in those words accompany the sweetness of the tuna.

It was blended into the vast waves of the Pacific Ocean.

Shen Wanzhou swallowed the piece of fish that melted in her mouth.

Her bright, peach-blossom eyes stared at Chen Yuan, like a child ready to watch a grand performance.

He nodded vigorously.

Time is like the white trail left by a cruise ship on the sea, fleeting in an instant.

half a month later.

The Champs-Élysées in Paris, France.

The early autumn sunlight pierced through the golden leaves of the plane trees along the roadside.

The ancient bluestone slabs of the street cast dappled light and shadow.

Outside a Michelin three-star restaurant called "La Couronne".

There was a long queue waiting for a number of people.

This is a shop that claims to have a history of two hundred years.

It is an insurmountable monument in the Parisian culinary world.

It is said that even Napoleon once tasted their signature baked snails here.

The restaurant's interior is decorated in an extremely luxurious style.

The Baroque-style crystal chandelier casts a soft, warm light.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of Burgundy red wine and the sweet, cloying scent of butter being baked.

Chen Yuan was wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray casual suit.

He wasn't wearing a tie, and his collar was slightly open, giving off an air of nonchalant nonchalance.

He held Shen Wanzhou's hand with one hand.

Under the respectful guidance of the waiter, we were led to a perfect seat by the window.

Shen Wanzhou is wearing a French retro long dress today.

He was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat.

This round-the-world trip, which lasted for more than half a month, allowed her to completely shed the tension she felt as the richest woman in Jianghai City.

Although in this foreign restaurant full of strangers.

She still subconsciously moved closer to Chen Yuan.

But the suffocating fear that once filled those eyes was gone.

There was only a secret anticipation of what was about to happen.

"Sir, Madam, this is our signature menu."

A waiter in a tuxedo handed over a menu with gold lettering and bowed slightly.

Chen Yuan didn't even glance at it, casually pushing the menu aside.

"Bring up your chef's specialty, the French-style baked escargot."

His voice was deep and calm, carrying an aura of authority that left no room for argument.

The waiter paused for a moment, then quickly resumed his professional fake smile and turned to walk towards the kitchen.

Less than twenty minutes.

A pure silver, hemispherical heat-insulating cover was gently lifted.

Six enormous Burgundy snails.

They are neatly arranged in a specially made grooved baking pan.

The surface is covered with a layer of golden-brown, slightly charred herb butter and minced garlic.

The rich aroma of milk mixed with the distinctive scent of parsley instantly filled the table.

This aroma is enough to make most diners' mouths water.

But Chen Yuan simply lowered his head slightly, his deep black eyes sweeping over the plate.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He picked up the special silver snail clip next to him.

With practiced ease, he picked a snail out of its shell.

I didn't dip it in the bread that came with it.

Put it directly into your mouth.

The moment the teeth close.

The snails have a unique chewy texture, mixed with a strong buttery and spice flavor.

It spread throughout the mouth.

But Chen Yuan only chewed it twice.

The fork in my hand clanged against the edge of the white porcelain plate.

It made a crisp and abrupt sound.

The sound wasn't loud, but it sounded jarring in the quiet and elegant Michelin-starred restaurant.

"The heat has been exceeded by thirty seconds."

Chen Yuan grabbed a napkin from the side and slowly wiped his mouth.

His voice was cold and unyielding, making no attempt to conceal its volume.

"The protein fibers in snail meat have begun to shrink and age."

"To mask the slight fishy smell of the meat caused by improper cooking."

"The chef insisted on increasing the amount of rosemary and garlic by 15 percent."

"This practice of using excessive spices to mask defects in cooking time."

"Does it even deserve to bear the Michelin three-star label?"

These few sentences.

Spoken fluently in French, the words were clearly heard by the diners and waiters at the surrounding tables.

The air throughout the restaurant.

It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on it in that instant.

The sound of knives and forks clattering against plates stopped abruptly.

All eyes turned to this Eastern man who dared to cause trouble in a two-hundred-year-old shop.

soon.

The heavy spring door to the kitchen was violently pushed open.

A middle-aged French man wearing a snow-white chef's uniform with a badge of three gold stars pinned to his chest.

He strode out with a face full of anger.

This is Jean-Pierre, the executive chef of this restaurant.

In the French culinary world, he is a figure revered as a god.

"Sir!"

Jean-Pierre walked up to Chen Yuan's desk and placed his hands on the table.

Anger blazed from his blue eyes.

"Your remarks were a serious insult to me and our restaurant's two-hundred-year history!"

"The essence of French-style baked escargot lies in the perfect fusion of spices and butter!"

"What right do you, a Chinese person who understands nothing about Western culinary arts, have to point fingers here!"

Faced with the Michelin chef's angry roar.

Chen Yuan didn't even lift his eyelids.

He leaned back in the leather chair, one hand casually resting on the armrest.

That contempt and composure that emanated from the very core of his being.

Jean-Pierre felt like a clown jumping around.

"True culinary art transcends national boundaries."

Chen Yuan scoffed coldly, his gaze like a sharp scalpel, cutting straight through the other party's disguise.

"You Westerners turn your kitchens into sophisticated chemistry labs."

"Using a constant temperature slow cooker, and various test tubes and droppers."

"But they forgot that the most essential soul of cooking is 'fire'."

He stood up.

His tall and imposing figure instantly cast a commanding shadow in front of Jean-Pierre.

"Since you're not convinced."

Chen Yuan straightened his suit cuffs, his voice so calm it was chilling.

"May I borrow your kitchen?"

"I'll use only the lowest quality pig liver to teach you what true cooking time is."

This sentence.

Arrogance to the extreme.

To the self-proclaimed noble French chef, it was utterly absurd.

Pig liver?

The kind of offal that is only used to make cheap soups in slums or low-class taverns in France.

How dare they use it to challenge the signature baked snails at this three-Michelin-starred restaurant?

"Alright! I'd like to see what tricks you're up to!"

Jean-Pierre, enraged, laughed and stepped aside to make way for the kitchen.

"If what you make doesn't convince the guests present."

"I guarantee you'll receive an exorbitant defamation letter from our legal department!"

Chen Yuan ignored his threat.

He turned his head and looked at Shen Wanzhou, who was sitting in a chair with excitement shining in her eyes.

He gently rubbed the top of her head twice with his large hand.

"Wait here for me for five minutes."

Ten minutes later.

The kitchen, which was originally orderly and quiet like a laboratory, was now a space that was much quieter.

The scene was completely shattered by a sudden, violent roar.

Chen Yuan did not change into his chef's uniform.

He simply took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

A black apron that had been found on the spot was tied around his waist.

Standing in front of a modified high-powered gas stove.

On the stove, there was a very ordinary kitchen knife that he used.

Within ten seconds, slice the pork liver into paper-thin, uniformly sized pieces.

No vacuum slow cooking was used.

It was not marinated with those complicated spices.

He simply applied a thin layer of starch paste.

"boom--!"

The gas stove was turned to its maximum setting.

The pale blue flames shot up half a meter high in an instant.

Under the intense heat, a faint red glow appeared on the bottom of the black iron pot.

Pour in the oil.

The oil temperature soared to 80% hot within two seconds.

Wisps of blue smoke rose from the surface.

Chen Yuan picked up the plate full of pig liver with his left hand.

A flick of the wrist.

All the slices of pork liver were poured into the boiling oil like a red rain.

"Sizzle—!"

The deafening splattering sound of oil echoed in the kitchen.

The collision of water vapor and grease stirred up a cloud of thick white smoke.

Chen Yuan did not use a spatula.

His left arm muscles tensed instantly, and his large, well-defined hand gripped the pot handle tightly.

The wrist vibrates at a high frequency that defies the laws of physics.

It caused the iron pot, weighing dozens of kilograms, to tumble and fly up and down in mid-air.

The pig liver in the pot is subjected to centrifugal force and high temperature.

Tumbling and leaping in mid-air.

Each time it leaves the pot, it is precisely coated with a layer of oil.

The French sous chefs nearby were stunned.

They had never seen such a wild and brutal cooking method, yet it possessed a strange and beautiful aesthetic.

This isn't cooking; it's like a bloody war with weapons clashing!

"Add more fire!"

Chen Yuan gave a low shout and grabbed a handful of dried chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns with his right hand.

Throw it directly into the bottom of the pot.

At the same time, a spoonful of aged vinegar is poured in along the edge of the pot.

"boom!"

Bright yellow flames instantly shot into the air from the pot.

The light cast flickering shadows on Chen Yuan's cold, handsome profile.

The flames completely enveloped the pig liver.

This extreme high temperature not only instantly locks in the moisture inside the pig liver.

It happened in just a few seconds.

The thin layer of batter on the surface of the pig liver was stir-fried until it developed a slightly crispy texture.

At that critical point, just 0.1 seconds before the flame was about to go out.

Chen Yuan's wrist suddenly jerked.

The iron pot left a trail of afterimages in mid-air.

All the pig livers seemed to come alive, converging in the air to form a dark red stream.

Not a single drop fell into the white porcelain plate next to it.

throughout.

Less than thirty seconds.

It has an extremely strong flavor, mixed with the aroma of vinegar, the smoky aroma of chili, and the unique richness of pork liver.

It instantly blew through the kitchen's ventilation system.

Like a wild beast unleashed from its cage, it barbarically crashed into the nasal cavity of all the diners in the restaurant outside.

Jean-Pierre stood two steps away.

Looking at the plate of steaming, bright red and tempting stir-fried pork liver.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down with difficulty.

His instincts as a top chef told him this.

The control of the heat in this dish has reached a level that is frightening.

A second too long and you'll age; a second too short and you'll become tainted.

But he couldn't believe that such low-grade offal could actually be made into a dish that tasted even better than his baked snails.

With trembling hands, he picked up a clean fork.

Walk up to the porcelain plate.

I forked a piece of pork liver that was still glistening with juice and put it in my mouth.

The moment the teeth close.

It didn't have the powdery texture and fishy smell I had imagined.

The outer skin has a slightly crispy texture, while the inside...

Yet it's so tender, like a piece of freshly solidified silken tofu!

Salty, savory, sour, spicy, and sweet.

The five flavors exploded in the mouth in an incredible, layered way.

It lacks the weight and richness that comes from piling up spices.

Only by bringing out the purest essence of the ingredients through extreme high temperatures can the true flavor of the ingredients be brought to its peak.

This control over fire.

This is the magic of the East that turns the mundane into the extraordinary.

It completely shattered all the culinary beliefs that Jean-Pierre had built up over the past fifty years.

The pure silver fork in his hand.

It fell onto the floor tiles with a "clang".

The French chef, gazing at the plate of stir-fried pork liver exuding an irresistible, caramelized aroma, exclaimed, his legs giving way: "My God, so this is the true magic of precise heat control!"