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

Alan's legs went weak, and he clung tightly to the edge of the kitchen counter.

The fingernail scraped against the stainless steel tabletop with a sharp, piercing sound.

On that old face, covered in red veins, the features were distorted and deformed with extreme horror.

He stared intently at the basin of clear, cold water.

That square piece of silken tofu, the moment it hit the water.

Like a blooming white chrysanthemum, it scatters into thousands of silver threads, each as fine as a hair and of absolutely uniform thickness.

It stretches and sways lightly in the water.

Not a single one was broken, and not a single thread was stuck together.

This is not cooking at all.

This is a molecular-level micro-sculpting operation performed on a piece of delicate jade.

Alain's faith in French cuisine, established over the past thirty years.

Under the blade of this Eastern man, it collapsed with a crash, shattering into countless fragments.

Chen Yuan did not look at him.

With his large, well-defined hands, he lifted the lid of the clay pot that had been simmering on a low flame.

The pot contains a top-quality broth made from premium old hen, dried scallops, and ham.

The soup is clear like mineral water, yet it contains an extremely rich and savory flavor.

A spoonful of piping hot clear soup was slowly poured along the edge of the deep white porcelain plate.

Completely activate that tofu-shaped white chrysanthemum.

Chen Yuan picked up the white porcelain plate with one hand.

With his other hand, he fastened the pure silver hemispherical heat-insulating cover.

"Click".

The aroma was perfectly locked inside the plate.

He turned around.

With his leather shoes clicking on the floor tiles, he walked out of the Michelin kitchen, its pride shattered, without looking back.

The old black cotton apron clung to his lean waist.

His tall, upright figure disappeared behind the door.

The French chef was left behind, utterly dejected, slumped on the cold floor, his breathing completely out of control.

In the main hall of the castle restaurant.

The chamber symphony orchestra is still playing the cello.

The music was soft and melodious.

European old-money families sat around a mahogany table, slicing bloody, medium-rare steaks.

The blonde, blue-eyed ladies whispered amongst themselves, their hands covered with lace gloves.

"Has that Chinese guy been inside for ten minutes?"

"I bet he doesn't even know how to turn on the ignition; he's probably just staring blankly at the machine right now."

"Poor Ms. Shen, her bodyguard is about to bring out a plate of charred, roasted potatoes."

Mocking whispers circulated around the dining table.

Shen Wanzhou turned a deaf ear.

She sat upright in a carved high-backed chair.

Her fair fingers toyed with the glass water glass, her fingertips warm.

The eagle stood like a black iron tower, three steps behind her.

With his hand on his waist, the scarred face exuded a menacing aura, as if he were ready to clear the area at any moment.

The heavy brass double doors were pushed open.

Chen Yuan held the pure silver tray in one hand.

I walked steadily through the hall.

The nobles' gazes swept over us like searchlights, carrying an air of condescending scrutiny.

Chen Yuan walked up to Shen Wanzhou.

His tall figure shielded her from the blinding crystal chandelier overhead.

"Are you getting impatient?"

His voice was deep and resonant, radiating an unyielding indulgence.

Shen Wanzhou looked up.

Her sparkling peach blossom eyes curved into two beautiful crescent moons.

"No, I'm just hungry."

She muttered softly, her voice as gentle as a cotton candy.

Her two hands rested obediently on the tablecloth, like a kindergarten child waiting for lunch.

Chen Yuan placed the deep white porcelain plate steadily in front of her.

Long, slender fingers gripped the handle of the sterling silver lid.

Gently lift it upwards.

"Click."

The heat-insulating cover detaches from the ceramic plate.

For an instant.

There was no exaggerated white smoke, nor any harsh sizzling sound.

But there was a domineering and exotic fragrance that defied description.

Like an ancient behemoth that had been sleeping for thousands of years, it suddenly broke free of its cage!

That's the ultimate sweetness brought out by simmering old hen, Jinhua ham, and deep-sea scallops over a low flame.

It blends with the delicate flavor of bean products.

This aroma is not as heavy and oily as that of Western spices.

It is pure, sharp, and strikes straight to the soul.

It swept away the air in the entire castle hall with overwhelming force.

The cellist's wrist jerked suddenly.

The bow produced a broken note, and the music stopped abruptly.

The closest table was occupied by European nobles.

The silver steak knife in his hand clattered onto the bone china plate.

The crisp sounds rang out in unison.

The men and women who had been whispering and laughing just moments before were now frozen in shock.

The French baron holding the wine glass had his nostrils flaring violently.

He stared wide-eyed at the plate in front of Shen Wanzhou.

A clear "gulping" swallowing sound came from his throat.

Saliva was being secreted wildly in my mouth, and a sour, astringent twitch even rose from the bottom of my tongue.

"What...what is this taste?"

A noblewoman wearing a pearl necklace was struggling to hold her knife and fork.

Her prized French-style baked snails paled in comparison to this delicate yet assertive aroma.

It instantly turned into a pile of industrial waste reeking of garlic.

Shen Wanzhou had no time to pay attention to the glaring, wolf-like eyes around her.

Her gaze was completely fixed on the blooming white chrysanthemum in the plate.

Thousands of strands of tofu, as thin as hair, sway in the clear, watery broth.

It's so beautiful it doesn't look like food, but rather like a fragile work of art.

She picked up the small, pure silver spoon.

I carefully scooped up a spoonful of clear soup, along with a few thin strands of tofu.

She blew on it to warm it, then placed it into her slightly parted red lips.

The moment the broth touches the tip of your tongue.

Shen Wanzhou's peach blossom eyes instantly lit up with an astonishing brightness.

The richness and umami of the broth exploded in layers in my mouth.

The shredded tofu doesn't even need to be chewed; it melts in your mouth.

It slid down the esophagus into the stomach, leaving a warm feeling that soothed every part of the body.

Those spasms and nausea caused by eating half a bite of raw meat.

This soup completely soothed me.

"tasty!"

She squinted her eyes contentedly.

His cheeks were slightly puffed out, and he ate without any restraint.

Like a Persian cat that has finally gotten to eat the best cat treat.

One spoonful after another.

The silver spoon touched the porcelain bowl, producing a light, rhythmic sound.

A small drop of clear soup accidentally slid down the corner of her lips.

It clung to her fair chin, gleaming faintly.

Chen Yuan stood beside her.

His deep black eyes didn't spare a single glance for the high-ranking officials and dignitaries around him who were craning their necks and swallowing hard.

He didn't even glance at it out of the corner of his eye.

With his large, well-defined hands, he pulled a clean white handkerchief from the silver tissue box on the table.

He bent down slightly.

His tall figure blocked the light coming from the side.

Rough fingertips through a soft tissue.

The movements were extremely gentle.

Little by little, he carefully wiped away the drop of soup from her chin.

"Drink slowly."

Chen Yuan gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

It brought a warm shiver down my spine.

There's still some in the kitchen, no one's going to take it from you.

His low, husky voice revealed an absolute favoritism that no outsider could possibly know.

In this man's world.

What Michelin three-star glory, what awe-inspiring presence?

None of that could compare to the charming smile that appeared on his wife's face after she had eaten and drunk her fill.

The entire room fell silent.

Only the sound of Shen Wanzhou sipping soup echoed through the ancient castle.

Those European nobles in suits practically bulged their eyes out.

The Eastern man wearing an old apron.

I just presented a divine dish that is enough to overturn the entire Western culinary world's perception.

just now.

He acted like any ordinary husband, his eyes fixed only on the soup stains on the girl's lips.

This terrifying power and extreme contrast.

He repeatedly rubbed the pride of all the old money families present against the floor.

That aroma, so potent it seemed to strike right at their souls, gnawed at their stomachs like a hook.

at last.

A European duke sat in the second row.

I could no longer suppress that deep-seated craving.

He suddenly stood up.

Push aside the plate of top-quality steak in front of me that had long since gone cold.

With trembling hands, he pulled a gold-embossed checkbook from the inside pocket of his suit.

His leather shoes clattered on the Persian carpet as he stumbled toward the mahogany table.

"Sir! Please wait a moment!"

The Duke ran to a spot two meters away from Chen Yuan, only to be frozen in place by the eagle's icy gaze.

He paid no heed to the gleaming baton in the eagle's hand.

He held the blank check that had just been signed in both hands.

My wrist trembled violently, and the paper made a rustling sound.

A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his blond hair was disheveled.

"I...I'm willing to pay any price!"

The Duke's grey-blue eyes were filled with an unbridled fervor.

He stared at the deep white porcelain plate in front of Shen Wanzhou, where only two mouthfuls of soup remained.

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

"Ten thousand euros! No, one hundred thousand euros!"

"Please sell me the last sip of soup!"

"You can fill in any number! Just let me taste this miraculous dish!"

The Duke's posture was so humble it was almost groveling.

The once-powerful European rich, who possessed hereditary fiefdoms, were now like a beggar who hadn't eaten for three days and three nights.

He was even willing to kneel before this Eastern man just to get a sip of that soup.

None of the nobles around him laughed at him.

Because in the hearts of each of them, the same desire ignited.

Shen Wanzhou's hand holding the silver spoon froze in mid-air.

She raised her head blankly and looked at the duke who was covered in sweat.

He then turned his head to look at Chen Yuan beside him.

A hint of displeasure at being disturbed flashed in her peach blossom eyes, and her small mouth pursed slightly.

Chen Yuan's gaze instantly turned cold.

The warm spring water in her eyes condensed into icy frost the moment she turned her head.

He didn't look at the blank check with the family crest on it.

It was as if it were just a piece of smelly waste paper.

His large, well-defined hands crumpled the used tissue into a ball.

Slightly rotate your wrist.

"Clatter".

The tissue flew through the air in a short parabola before landing precisely in the metal trash can on the edge of the long table.

Chen Yuan braced himself against the back of the chair with one hand.

His tall and upright figure turned slightly to the side.

His unfathomable black eyes were coldly fixed on the trembling duke's face.

A European duke, trembling, rushed up with a blank check, begging to buy the last drop of soup. Chen Yuan casually tossed the tissue into the trash can, his eyes cold: "Get out of the way, don't block the light from my wife's meal."