Chapter 147 - Your Green Onion Bing Doesn't Stand A Chance Against This

Panda Novel

“I can help you add self-destruction devices into the food if you want. They will protect your secret,” the system said suddenly.

“How much?” Mag was a little intrigued.

“10 gold coins each.”

“No, thanks!”

It’s even more expensive than roujiamo! Mag thought.

…

“Your Yangzhou fried rice,” Yabemiya said with a smile as she put the plate in front of Vicennio. He knelt before Mag in the morning. He looks so pale; he must be starving.

“Thanks,” Vicennio said without lifting his head. His attention was totally attracted by the food already. He had watched others eat this dish in the morning, but he hadn’t paid too much attention. Now that this colorful dish was right before him, the tantalizing aroma made him swallow in spite of himself.

The pleasant smell caught others’ attention as well. Those restaurateurs fixed their wide eyes on the fried rice.

Andrew frowned. What’s this? Why did he have to chop everything into such small pieces? The taste and texture are ruined! His pork steak was known for its big size, and was the 18th most delicious food at the Aden Square, mostly because of its size. He liked to watch people gobble down his steak.

The smell of eggs has mixed perfectly with the smell of other ingredients, and together they have created such a wonderful aroma. What’s inside the eggs? Rice? But rice grains are so small. How did he do it? Bernice wondered.

Her dishes featured fineness. Her restaurant’s specialty was ranked 13th among the most delicious food. She was good at making the best of ingredients, and she was well aware of the skills needed to chop everything into the size of a rice grain.

The ingredients look to be of high quality, but did he cook them all together with oil and seasonings? I wonder how it tastes. Besides, different people like different foods. I don’t think they all find that dish tasty, Miles thought, frowning.

His restaurant accommodated all tastes, and that was why he had many regulars in spite of his lack of specialties.

They held their questions and doubts in check; they didn’t plan to cause any trouble here.

Vicennio could feel their eyes on him. He raised his eyes to theirs. “Guys, please do not stare at me like that. You’re making me nervous,” he said, moving the plate closer to himself.

Andrew smiled. “Sorry. Don’t worry. We’re just watching.”

“Okay…” Vicennio dropped his gaze back to his food. Apparently, the strong butcher’s words didn’t make him feel any better. His stomach was rumbling. He picked up the spoon, and took a bite.

This is good!

Vicennio’s face lit up instantly. The taste of different ingredients spread in his mouth, delicious and intoxicating.

When he swallowed, the food slid down his throat like a warm current. His drowsy cells were beginning to revive like the dry field after the rain. He felt so good, his weariness was largely gone, he didn’t look as pale as before, and he could feel his strength coming back.

Vicennio’s eyes went wide. He gazed at the fried rice with a surprised look on his face. It’s working! Even better than those pills. And it’s so delicious. No wonder my wife liked it. He took another bite, and then another. He smiled, and was completely lost in the food.

Mag’s seven counterparts swallowed.

Is it really that good?

They all had the same question in their minds. They watched Vicennio wolf down the fried rice, and could only imagine what it tasted like.

Some customers became a little restless after waiting as the aroma of roujiamo and Yangzhou fried rice floated in the air.

The half-dragon waitress was taking orders and serving food. She’d never made a single mistake, smiling all the while, so the customers waiting couldn’t bellyache too much.

Then the seven restaurateurs saw the roujiamo. “What’s that?”

“A loaf of bread stuffed with chopped meat. How tasty can it be?” Andrew said. He was even more confused now. Why do they have to serve meat with bread?

“Did you smell that? It’s so different, don’t you think?” said Bernice. It was clearly a much stronger smell than the first one, and it whetted her appetite immediately.

They were chefs as well as restaurateurs, so they were more interested in figuring out how to make the food.

“Yes. Deep-fried pork steak doesn’t smell like that,” Andrew said, shaking his head.

“Nor does roasted meat,” the old woman said.

Miles frowned. “I don’t think he boils meat in water.”

“Why do I get the feeling that he cooks in a completely different way? Did he invent all these dishes himself?” the balding man asked.

“An inventor, huh?” Bishop sneered. “So many restaurants want to invent new dishes, and they all end up shutting down. These customers only find the new dishes interesting here, and I don’t think their interest will last a long time.”

A customer nearby overheard their little conversation. He took a look at Bishop. “I beg to differ, grandpa,” he said, twisting his mouth. “Your green onion bing ¹ doesn’t stand a chance against this roujiamo.”

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