Embracing Unconventional Culinary Adventures

Anyway, taking advantage of the afternoon break, Liu Yang had set up a second-hand treadmill in the kitchen, calling it "strengthening the body," but in reality, preparing for the evening service.

Speaking of this treadmill, it was an "antique" he had picked up from Old Zhang's stationery store next door.

The thing creaked and groaned with every step, providing a live concert with each run.

"If you wait a moment," Liu Yang wiped the non-existent sweat from his brow, "I need to finish today's exercise, it gives me more energy when I cook at night."

"What are you talking about? Exercise?" Xiao Li blinked, as if he had heard some kind of fantasy tale.

He stared at Liu Yang on the treadmill, who was bouncing around like a rabbit, not even panting.

The most absurd part was the treadmill itself, which seemed to complain about life with every rotation, as if to say, "I'm suffering."

"This..." Xiao Li stood there, his brain short-circuiting for a full two minutes.

He felt like he was either suffering from heatstroke or had been given something he shouldn't have in the bowl of noodles he had for lunch—otherwise, how could he be witnessing such a surreal scene?

It wasn't until the sound of chairs moving outside the door that he suddenly remembered the two young men waiting outside.

He quickly turned and ran out, looking back all the while—afraid that he might be dreaming.

Twenty minutes later, Liu Yang held the resumes and glanced over the two eager young men.

He hadn't expected that hiring a shop assistant could lead to such a dramatic turn of events—

Two art students.

Had the shop not been so busy, spinning like a top, he would have asked if these two kids had knocked on the wrong door, mistaking the kitchen for an art studio.

But then again, wasn't his own situation similar back then?

"Just one month," he finally relented, a hint of helplessness in his tone, "If you can't handle it, speak up early, don't wait until customers come and find the chef sketching."

The eyes of the two young men immediately brightened up, illuminating the entire kitchen, nodding vigorously.

Seeing their appearance, Liu Yang couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.

These two kids, one named Xiao Wang and the other A Qiang, claimed to be from the same art college.

The economy is not doing well these days, and the art business is not easy to sustain either!

Fortunately, the skills given by the system were quite effective, and the shop's business was booming, with long queues at the door every day.

The menu had expanded from the initial bowl of noodles to a dozen specialty snacks and over sixty different stir-fries.

Each item was so delicious that customers wanted to pack the plates and take them home.

In the deep night of the kitchen, Liu Yang sat amidst a pile of condiment bottles.

If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe that this once prodigal son was now staring at a jar of Lao Gan Ma, lost in thought.

The system panel emitted a faint blue light in the darkness,

—it was much harder to come by than the pocket money his father used to give him.

In his past life, when he was spending money like water, he couldn't even tell a kitchen knife from a spatula...

"A few more dishes and I'll level up..." he muttered, tapping the cooking table unconsciously.

If his group of friends saw him now, they would have laughed their heads off—

The great young master of the Liu family was here, talking to a bunch of ingredients, a plot more absurd than the soap operas they used to watch.

But then again, if he could really reach the divine level, maybe he could unlock some incredible skills?

Thinking of this, Liu Yang couldn't help but laugh out loud, his smile as cheeky as could be.

Liu Yang stared at the system interface, beginning to plan seriously.

"First, I need to solidify my basic skills," he listed mentally,

"The noodles are already shaping up; the next step is to think about those forgotten stir-fries."

He took out a notebook, carefully recording the key points of each dish: the heat must be precise, the seasoning must be on point.

Although the system was helping now, these details still required his own practice.

"When the skills are more stable," he flipped through the yellowing menu,

"I'll reorganize these dishes.淘汰 those that need to go, and innovate those that need refreshing."

He looked at the shop's decoration and began to calculate the budget: "The floor and wall tiles must be changed, and the kitchen equipment should be upgraded."

He wrote and drew in his notebook, "But it has to be done step by step, starting with the most urgent replacements."

The most important was the range hood; if it wasn't replaced soon, the environmental protection bureau would probably issue a fine.

And the stove, with its insufficient firepower, affected the speed of serving dishes. All these needed to be included in the near-term plan.

The following afternoon, Liu Yang wandered into the second-hand bookstore at the corner during his break.

The shop was so dilapidated it seemed like a corner forgotten by time, with a bell hanging at the entrance that probably started its service in the Qing Dynasty. Every time it rang, it seemed to complain about its unresolved pension.

The bookstore owner, a middle-aged man wearing reading glasses, was sitting behind the counter at that moment, holding an old book in his hand.

"Hey, Boss Liu is here!" The owner looked up and saw him, smiling more brilliantly than the flickering fluorescent light in his shop that was on the verge of giving up.

"I was wondering why I suddenly felt like flipping through this food magazine today, it turns out it's because you're coming!"

"Do you have any books about cuisine here?" Liu Yang asked, his gaze sweeping over the bookshelves.

The worn spines were arranged crookedly, much like the unruly seasoning bottles in his kitchen.

"Yes, yes, yes!" The owner was as excited as if he had found a kindred spirit, emerging from behind the counter and leading him through the shelves.

"I've tasted your beef noodles, they're amazing! Much better than my wife's cooking—don't tell her I said that."

As the owner spoke, he walked towards the back of the shop.

He navigated skillfully through the rows of yellowing books, eventually stopping in a corner.

There, a stack of books that seemed to have seen better days, with the gilded letters on their covers almost faded away.

"Found it!" The owner pulled out a slightly worn book from the pile.

The cover bore the title "The Exploration of Infinite Taste Possibilities," authored by a food blogger named Hu Jing, known as "Crazy Kitchen."

"This book is quite special; it was published eight years ago, but it's just what you need now!" The owner said while brushing the dust off the book.

"The author has unique ideas about ingredient pairings, but..." He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully,

"it's just... maybe the concept was too avant-garde at the time and not widely accepted, so the sales weren't very good."

Listening to the owner's introduction, Liu Yang opened "The Exploration of Infinite Taste Possibilities" and found it to be what could only be described as the "ultimate bible of the dark cuisine world."

Each page was filled with unheard-of bizarre combinations, and even the illustrations had a sinister vibe.

"Sichuan peppercorn ice cream with cured meat?" He raised an eyebrow, "This combination might just send the diners' taste buds to the heavens."

Turning the page: "Chili sauce mixed with chocolate, topped with cilantro mousse?" The recipe was more thrilling than the cocktails he used to mix at nightclubs in his past life.

Further on: "Garlic durian braised pig's trotters, sprinkled with mint leaves..." If served, even the dogs on the neighboring street might be driven away by the smell.

"And there's more," his gaze fell on a particularly eye-catching recipe, "Stinky tofu ice cream, with wasabi sauce and coffee powder? This isn't just dark cuisine, this is the nuclear weapon of the culinary world!"

The system silently recorded these recipes in his mind, probably contemplating how to transform these "shocking and amazing" combinations into Michelin-level delicacies.

But with the system's enhancement, these seemingly outrageous recipes might just be able to create something new and exciting.

"Tsk tsk," he closed the book, a smile more dangerous than the recipes inside playing on his lips, "Master Hu, I didn't expect you to have such a trick up your sleeve. If the Michelin judges knew about these recipes, they'd probably go on strike en masse."

Of course, at this moment, he didn't know that these recipes were actually scribbled by Hu Jing when he was drunk, and no one had ever truly tried them.

This is probably what they call fearlessness born of ignorance—he wanted to see how these "unbridled" combinations would turn out with the system's enhancement.

"Alright, I'll take this one!" Liu Yang took out his wallet and casually flipped through the author "Hu Jing's" profile.

This food blogger wrote eloquently about "breaking with tradition," "innovative pairings," and "pushing the boundaries of taste," which sounded quite professional.

He thought to himself that he just happened to need to develop new dishes, and this book came just in time.

Moreover, looking at the combinations of these dishes, they were indeed quite innovative—

Although some of the recipes struck him as a bit odd, since they were written by a professional, he assumed they must have been verified, right?