The Poisonous Noodles

On this day, Liu Yang stood before the stove, his movements as smooth and graceful as if he were an artist who had wandered onto the wrong film set.

When mixing the squid ink with the flour, his hands were as gentle as if he were giving a baby a massage;

yet the force with which he kneaded the dough was as vigorous as if he were practicing Tai Chi, and the dough was as docile in his hands as a well-trained pet.

Xiao Li, standing by, watched with his mouth agape, nearly creasing the notebook he was holding.

This was the first time he had witnessed such a performance-level dough-mixing technique, which was more magical than any cooking tutorial video he had ever seen.

The process of making the soup base was even more astonishing—

Three kinds of chili peppers were tumbling in the pot, the dark red soup steaming and bubbling, looking as if he were brewing some sort of magical potion.

Liu Yang stood by, controlling the heat, his expression more focused than that of someone adjusting a nuclear bomb.

"Watch closely," Liu Yang said without lifting his head, "this is the most critical moment."

With a slight flick of his right hand, a pinch of Sichuan peppercorns fell into the pot, instantly releasing a burst of fragrance that made Xiao Li sneeze.

The final plating was nothing short of a visual feast:

The pitch-black noodles were coiled into a perfect circle,

the bright red soup was slowly poured over,

and the steaming heat was so spicy it took one's breath away.

Golden, crispy cheese puffs and lemon-marinated squid rings were artfully arranged on top. Finally, matcha and cocoa powder were used to draw a pattern of an "undersea volcano" on the surface.

"Is... is this noodles?"

The guests who had mustered up the courage to order these noodles—

When the young couple entered, they looked as if they were searching for some kind of internet-famous check-in spot.

The girl held her phone, snapping pictures non-stop of the menu on the wall, which could be called a "directory of culinary horror novels."

She was well aware that in this day and age, which internet-famous shop didn't rely on fabricated good reviews?

Those evaluations of "delicious food" and "world-class dishes" probably had more水分 (exaggeration) than the soup in their school canteen.

The boy, on the other hand, had an expression as if he were a "well-traveled gourmet," and he pointed to the "Undersea Hell Noodles" to place an order.

He had been deceived by those internet-famous shops before, which were so-called "innovative dishes," but in reality, they were either filling the ranks with unqualified items or just making a fuss over nothing.

He remembered going to a shop that claimed to serve "molecular cuisine" last week, and the result was just ordinary ingredients made unrecognizable,

and the taste was not even as good as that of a street stall.

"The reviews of this shop are too exaggerated," the girl muttered quietly while taking photos,

"Terms like 'Michelin level' and 'amazing' are used as if they were true.

Most likely, they also hired people to give fake reviews. Anyway, we'll just take a few photos, post them on our Moments, and leave."

The boy nodded in agreement, betting that this "Undersea Hell Noodles" was also just a gimmick,

at most, it might have added some squid ink for color and a fancy presentation. How much real skill could there be?

The two had already prepared themselves for disappointment, as this was how internet-famous shops were nowadays—

The names were terrifying, but in reality, they were just like drawing tigers on cats.

Just like the "Space Molecular Cuisine" they went to last time, the result was just ordinary fried rice frozen in liquid nitrogen, sold at a price higher than gold.

"I heard that this shop is particularly popular, and every dish can get tens of thousands of likes when posted online," the girl said excitedly, adjusting the angle of her phone,

"Let's take two photos, taste a bite, and then leave."

When the bowl of pitch-black noodles was served, the expressions on their faces were as if they had seen a ghost—

This was not what they thought would be an internet-famous delicacy, but rather a call from the abyss.

The dark and glossy noodles looked like the tentacles of some deep-sea creature,

and the bright red soup seemed like lava that could erupt at any moment,

with the combination of toppings on top being even more confusing.

The boy mustered up his courage to pick up a chopstick, planning to take a perfunctory bite and then leave.

He first only picked up a single noodle, carefully lifting it with his chopsticks.

The noodle swayed between the chopsticks, black and shiny, and indeed had a bit of the "deep-sea" feel to it.

He thought to himself, this might just be another gimmick, probably just added some squid ink, and even the seasoning might be done carelessly.

With this mentality of "going to be cheated again," he very cautiously brought the noodle to his mouth.

It was as if he were testing poison, fearing that this dark cuisine might poison someone.

He planned to take a bite and then make an excuse to leave, as the photos had already been taken and could be posted on Moments.

As soon as the noodle touched his lips, he smelled an enticing aroma.

The boy's hand holding the chopsticks paused. This fragrance was completely different from what he had imagined. It was not a taste deliberately concocted for the sake of a gimmick, but an alluring scent that made one want to explore further.

He carefully put the black noodle into his mouth.

The noodles had just the right amount of chewiness, neither too soft nor too hard, with a wonderful elasticity.

And that black sauce, which he thought was squid ink, actually had a delightful complexity—delicious with a hint of spiciness, and there was also an indescribable (fresh fragrance).

"Th-this..." he widened his eyes and quickly picked up a big chopstick. This time, there was no more tentative attitude, as if he were afraid someone would snatch it away from him.

The soup flowed down the noodles, glistening enticingly in the black bowl.

It was then that he realized this seemingly simple bowl of noodles held secrets: the soup was clear but not bland, and the noodles, though frightening in color, were incredibly appetizing.

The original plan of "tasting one bite and leaving" was instantly thrown out the window. All he could think of now was that not finishing this bowl of noodles would be a sacrifice for good food.

The girl opposite was holding her phone, ready to capture the funny expression of her boyfriend trying the "dark cuisine."

She had already thought of the caption: "The dark cuisine of an internet-famous shop, my boyfriend petrified on the spot!"

It would cause a wave of laughter in her Moments.

However, to her surprise, her boyfriend's expression was so intoxicated.

It was not the disgust of something bad-tasting, nor the joking for the sake of the photo, but a kind of shock she had never seen before.

The girl's hand taking the photo shook involuntarily, almost dropping the phone.

She had seen her boyfriend's look when he was enjoying a Michelin restaurant, and she had seen his expressions when he complained about internet-famous shops, but she had never seen this—

As if someone had pressed the pause button, even his gaze was frozen in mid-air.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" she asked nervously, "It's not poisonous, is it?"

As soon as she said this, she couldn't laugh anymore.

Because her boyfriend's expression was too abnormal, as if he had seen a ghost, won the lottery, or had his Ren and Du meridians unblocked.

The dark noodle was still hanging halfway from his mouth, the scene was incredibly ridiculous yet eerie.

"This noodle... this noodle..." the boy stammered as if his vocabulary had been wiped clean by the delicious food,

and finally, he slammed the table, "This noodle is poisonous!"

The entire restaurant fell silent in an instant, with only the sound of the range hood from the kitchen audible."At this moment, when the boy's voice trembled and said 'this noodle...,' the restaurant became so quiet that the sound of chopsticks falling to the ground could be heard clearly. All the diners were as if they had been cast under a spell, with their chopsticks and spoons suspended mid-air.

The middle-aged man at the neighboring table had noodles still dangling from his mouth, yet his eyes were fixed on this side; the aunt at the table behind had her bowl frozen in mid-air, her neck twisted like a pretzel as she craned to see what was happening; even Xiao Zhang, who was counting bills behind the counter, was startled and stopped his calculator.

"Could it really be poisonous?""Is it food poisoning?""Should we call the police?"Whispers filled the restaurant.