The dating reality show host just wanted to give up, but the rich girl fell for him.

In Building C, next to the "storage room" that was ridiculed by the entire internet, is an abandoned small kitchen.

At this moment, a terrorist attack called "Late Night Poisoning" is brewing.

Lin Mo stood in front of the old-fashioned iron pot that was covered in a layer of dust and had just been polished to a shine.

The rusty kitchen knife in his hand seemed to come alive.

"Knock knock knock knock".

There were no fancy movements, only the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables.

That piece of white, thick, jade-like pork fat transformed in the blink of an eye into a neat pile the size of mahjong tiles.

"Take the pot out of the pan and start the fire."

Lin Mo skillfully turned on the gas stove knob, which looked like a product of the last century.

Blue flames suddenly shot out.

He poured all the chopped pork fat into the pot at once.

At that moment, his eyes changed.

He was no longer that listless young man in flip-flops, looking half-dead.

It's like a top engineer tightening screws on a nuclear bomb—focused, affectionate, and even a little sacred.

"Sizzle—"

The first crackling sound of the oil bursting open as it was heated.

It was as if some kind of switch had been turned on.

As the temperature rises, the white lard begins to shrink and become transparent.

A primal, domineering aroma of animal fat, reaching deep into the human gene pool, like a beast breaking free from its seal, instantly filled this not-so-spacious little kitchen.

[Holy crap???]

What is he doing? Is he refining oil?

[That sound...that buzzing sound...it gave me the creeps!]

Help! The light salad I just ordered suddenly doesn't taste good anymore!

This is Lin Mo's strategy.

In this reality show where everyone is eating grass, drinking dew, and talking about low-calorie, low-fat diets.

Nothing is more devastating than a pot of rendered lard.

That's the taste etched into the DNA of the Chinese people.

Even if you've eaten all the delicacies in the world, the taste you crave most when you wake up hungry in the middle of the night is the simple pleasure of home cooking.

"The timing is right."

Lin Mo stared at the golden-brown cracklings in the pot and quickly turned the heat down.

Scoop it out with a slotted spoon.

The once plump, white lard has now been transformed into crispy, caramelized "oil dumplings".

Sprinkle with a tiny bit of salt.

Lin Mo casually picked up a piece and threw it into his mouth.

"Click."

The crisp sound was clearly transmitted to the ears of every viewer watching the live stream through the microphone.

The oil bursts in your mouth, mixed with a faint salty taste.

Lin Mo narrowed his eyes and let out a sigh of extreme satisfaction:

"Hmm...this is what food from the living world should be like."

The comments section went crazy:

[Call the police! Someone is releasing poison late at night!]

[Listen to that crisp sound! Ugh! I suddenly don't want to eat my instant noodles anymore!]

[Is this what he meant by "bad kidneys"? This oily tonic will kill you!]

But it's not over yet.

Refining oil is just the prelude.

The real killer move has only just begun.

Lin Mo grabbed a handful of freshly washed scallions, leaving only the white part and the tenderest green part.

Throw it into the still-steaming lard.

"Splash—"

The once calm oil noodles boiled again.

The aroma of scallions is instantly activated by the high temperature, perfectly blending with the rich flavor of lard to create a biochemical weapon called "scallion oil".

This flavor is not only domineering, but also has an extremely strong penetrating power.

It slipped out through the gap in the slightly ajar window.

Riding the sea breeze.

In the quiet of the night, like a ghost, it drifted toward the brightly lit mansion, Building A.

……

Building A, terrace.

The so-called "high-end buffet" is still going on.

But the atmosphere had already become somewhat awkward.

Because everyone is hungry.

But for the sake of saving face, no one dared to say they were hungry, so they had to bite the bullet and drink the half-glass of red wine.

Zhao Kuo was still rambling on.

He swirled his wine glass, gazing wistfully at the distant moon, trying to fill the emptiness in his stomach with spiritual nourishment.

Do you know about the Proust effect?

Zhao Kuo said with deep emotion, "It means that as long as you smell a specific scent, you can evoke memories in your subconscious. Like the tannins in this wine, they remind me of that rainy night when I was studying in Paris..."

Just then.

A gust of wind blew by.

With a strong, smoky aroma that made people's mouths water, it mercilessly gave Zhao Kuo's "Proust" a big punch.

Zhao Kuo sniffed.

His previously blissful expression froze.

"What does it taste like?"

The fitness instructor next to me was starving, and his nose was as sensitive as a police dog's.

"It smells so good! This is... the smell of fried shallot oil?"

Lin Chacha couldn't help but swallow hard, almost losing her usual composure: "It smells like lard... Good heavens, who's cooking?"

This flavor is too aggressive.

Unlike the subtlety of Western cuisine, it is straightforward and passionate, with an allure that tempts one to commit crimes.

Faced with this aroma, the expensive cold ham and caviar on the table instantly became tasteless, even somewhat like wax models.

"Gurgle—"

I don't know whose stomach growled.

It sounded particularly jarring at this "high-end" gathering.

Zhao Kuo's face darkened.

Who the hell is causing trouble?

Did they turn his "Parisian Rainy Night" into a "Northeast China heated brick bed"?

He suddenly stood up and looked in the direction of the smell.

In the distance, in the direction of Building C, which he had mocked as a "doghouse," a dim yellow light was on.

That irresistible fragrance wafts from there.

"Lin Mo!"

Zhao Kuo gritted his teeth.

Didn't this kid go to pee on the spot?

Is this urine in the pot?!

……

Small kitchen in Building C.

Lin Mo was unaware that he had become the public enemy of Building A.

Even if he knew, he wouldn't care.

They might even be more excited and sprinkle in an extra handful of chopped green onions.

At this moment, he is proceeding to the final step—soul infusion.

He poured light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, and a little bit of white sugar into the bowl.

then.

Scoop up a spoonful of piping hot, dark brown scallion oil.

He poured the sauce over the bowl.

"Sizzle!"

Amidst the loud bangs, the aroma of soy sauce filled the air.

That flavor was so rich it seemed to materialize, drawing out one's very soul.

at the same time.

The water in the pot has boiled.

Lin Mo pulled out a handful of thin, gossamer-like dragon whisker noodles, spread them out, and dropped them into the water.

Stir gently with chopsticks.

The noodles tumbled in the boiling water, like little white jade dragons.

These noodles shouldn't be cooked for too long; they only need to be boiled twice before being scooped out.

"rise!"

Lin Mo flicked his wrist, and the noodles came out of the pot. After draining the water, he placed them directly on the bowl of scallion oil sauce that had been prepared beforehand.

White noodles, glossy black sauce.

Add to that a few pieces of fried scallions, golden brown and crispy.

Finally, drizzle a small spoonful of the fried pork cracklings on top.

This bowl of noodles.

Although the total cost of the ingredients was no more than five yuan.

But at this moment, it is the master of the world.

Lin Mo held the bowl and took a deep breath.

The warmth rushed from my nose to the top of my head, and every pore on my body opened up.

"This is what life is all about."

He picked up his chopsticks, ready to mix it and start eating.

Sudden.

He felt a chill run down his back.

It felt like something was watching us.

That feeling was terrifying.

Lin Mo paused.

He turned around abruptly.

Holy crap!

A phrase from the national essence spontaneously escaped his lips.

There, on the old glass window of the small kitchen, was a face pressed against something.

A deathly pale face, devoid of any color.

The face was pressed tightly against the glass, and the features were squeezed out of shape.

Especially those eyes.

Under the dim light, it emitted a faint green glow, staring intently at him... the bowl in his hand.

If this were in a horror movie, it would be enough to scare someone to death.

But this is a dating reality show.

Lin Mo looked closely.

That's not a female ghost at all.

That was clearly the aloof young lady from earlier that day—Jiang Ruoyun—wearing Chanel, red-soled shoes, and sporting a "don't touch me" expression!

Jiang Ruoyun at this moment.

Where is even a trace of the airs of a wealthy heiress?

There was even a dead leaf stuck to her haute couture dress (presumably she climbed over the wall).

Her once meticulously combed hair was now disheveled by the sea breeze.

She looked like a refugee who hadn't eaten for three days and three nights, peering out of a rich man's shop window, longing for the bread inside.

Lin Mo's hand holding the bowl trembled slightly.

Separated by glass.

Eyes facing each other.

The air froze for three seconds.

Lin Mo tentatively opened his mouth and mouthed, "Female...ghost?"

Jiang Ruoyun was not angry.

There was not even a rebuttal.

Her gaze never left the bowl of steaming pork lard noodles.

His throat bobbed very noticeably.

then.

This young lady from Beijing's elite circles is widely recognized online as a cool and aloof goddess.

Open your mouth.

He breathed a puff of white vapor onto the glass.

With an extremely aggrieved, pitiful voice, as if it were about to shatter at any moment, she uttered a single word:

"Hungry……"

That word, with a tremolo.

That's the most primal craving for food, and also the sound of a persona crumbling.

The barrage of comments exploded instantly:

[Hahahaha! That's Jiang Ruoyun?!]

[Am I seeing things? The young lady is actually begging for food by the window?]

Help! This scene is both terrifying and funny at the same time!

[Jiang Ruoyun: What aloofness! Compared to lard noodles, I'm just a starving ghost!]

Lin Mo looked at the longing "female ghost" outside the window, then at the bowl of freshly mixed noodles in his hand.

He instinctively protected the bowl.

Like a cat guarding its food.

Then he went to the window and opened it a crack.

The rich aroma of scallion oil instantly wafted out through the crack, heading straight for Jiang Ruoyun's face.

Jiang Ruoyun's nose twitched, and the green light in her eyes intensified.

"Want some?"

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow and pointed to the bowl of noodles.

Jiang Ruoyun nodded frantically.

He looked as docile as a puppy waiting to be fed.

"I worked so hard to make this."

Lin Mo deliberately sighed, looking troubled, "Besides, this is a separate price..."

Jiang Ruoyun was stunned for a moment.

They seem to be considering whether they can transfer money via WeChat at this time.

Seeing her adorable expression as she seriously pondered "how to pay," Lin Mo couldn't help but smile.

Just kidding.

He reached out and opened the window, letting the sea breeze and moonlight rush in.

"Come in."

Did you bring your own chopsticks?