The Birth of the Top Six

"Congratulations to the above six contestants for advancing to the final!"

 The host's voice grew even more excited, "Let's look forward to next week's final, where they will bring us an even more spectacular gourmet feast!"

These six contestants represent the top culinary skills of different schools in China, each with their own strengths and specialties.

And they all demonstrated extraordinary strength in the semi-finals, emerging from the twenty contestants.

As soon as the taxi stopped, Liu Yang was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic neighbors who were almost bursting with excitement.

It was as if he had just brought back some rare treasure from Mars. "Boss Liu, you've really brought honor to our old street!"

 Old Wang, the fruit vendor, waved his broom, so excited that he almost swept the nearby watermelon off the table.

 Xiao Zhang from the barbershop was so excited that he forgot to put down the scissors in his hand, gesturing in the air: "You didn't see the judges' expressions on TV, like they had seen aliens!"

"That's right," the clothing store owner interjected, "The faces of those Michelin chefs turned green, just like that out-of-season emerald dress in my store!"

The neighbors chatted away, praising Liu Yang so highly that he almost felt like he was flying.

The scene was more lively than their usual market day.

Even Old Li, who usually loved to find fault, was smiling like a sunflower today.

Liu Yang was a bit overwhelmed by this enthusiastic bombardment and could only awkwardly scratch his head, his expression as if to say: "Everyone is so excited, I'm almost embarrassed to use my empty-handed skills to outdo others."

That evening, Liu Yang lay sprawled in a reclining chair, looking at the shining data on the system interface, and suddenly realized that he had inadvertently activated some remarkable skill.

"So that's it..." he muttered to himself, "No wonder those customers seemed bewitched after eating."

He realized that his "memory awakening" skill had unconsciously turned each of his dishes into a key to unlock the door of memories.

No wonder even Hu Jing, the "impartial" food critic, was reminded of his childhood by Liu Yang's tofu. This week, Wei Xiang Ju had become a "healing food conference."

Every day, the line in front of the door was like a tireless dragon, and every person who came out of the shop had a dazed expression as if they had just come out of a psychiatric clinic.

"The sweet and sour pork ribs here," a well-dressed office worker wiped the corners of his eyes, "actually reminded me of my grandmother's figure standing in the kitchen twenty years ago."

"His green pepper stir-fried meat," a girl who had just returned from studying abroad cried, "one bite reminded me of the bento my mother made for me in high school. At that time, I still thought she made it too rustic..."

 Even the old cadres from the nearby government agencies couldn't sit still: "This twice-cooked pork has the same taste as the army canteen back then! I wonder if that old cook is still around..."

Xiao Li scratched his head in confusion - this was not running a restaurant, but operating a "memory clinic."

Each dish was not only supposed to satisfy hunger but also to give customers an experience of "time travel."

Liu Yang, however, had long been used to this kind of scene.

He looked at the customers who were wiping tears at the dining table and felt secretly pleased: this "memory awakening" skill was even more powerful than the leek in his backyard.

 "Boss," a customer put down his chopsticks, his eyes red, "does your shop secretly add something to the seasonings?

Why do I feel like crying while eating?"

Liu Yang just smiled without speaking. After a week, the review page of Wei Xiang Ju was as if it had been infected by some "positive review virus."

Those keyboard warriors who originally came with the mentality of "I just want to see how dark this dark shop is" all turned into loyal followers of the "real fragrance cult."

 "I admit, I came to find fault before," a food blogger wrote sincerely, "I originally wanted to shoot a video to complain about this 'dark shop', but I forgot my phone after the first bite. I'm sorry for my previous behavior..."

 "Dark curtain " another netizen showed his experience of queuing for four hours, "Do you know why I'm praising this shop so hard? Because I've eaten here for three days! Three days! Queuing for four hours every day! If this is a dark curtain, I'll swallow this review!" Even someone specifically wrote an article called "From Black Fan to True Love Fan: A Self-Redemption": "I originally wanted to shoot a documentary to expose the dark curtain, but it turned into a food recommendation video.

I'm sorry, my keyboard warrior career ends here..."

Even the "old hands" in the food comment world were convinced: "In a twenty-year career as a food critic, for the first time I want to delete all the bad reviews and rewrite them.

This shop deserves it!" The most amazing thing is that someone deliberately posted a review: "I am a professional, a professional troublemaker for twenty years, and today I want to change my job. This shop cured my keyboard warrior disease." Xiao Li looked at these reviews and couldn't help but sigh in his heart: This is not running a restaurant, it is like running a "keyboard warrior transformation center."

The most beautiful thing in the world is the "real fragrance" scene, and Wang Hai Lou has probably created the largest "real fragrance" scene in history.

At 7 a.m., outside Wei Xiang Ju, Xiao Li stood there waiting for the taxi, feeling as relaxed as if he were going for a stroll in the park rather than heading to the national finals. This was already their third time taking this taxi to the competition venue.

The first time they went, he was as nervous as a first-grader on the first day of school; the second time, although he tried to appear calm, his palms were still sweating. But this time, he truly felt at ease.

"Boss," Xiao Li leaned against the car window, watching the streets in the morning light, "to be honest, this month has gathered all the excitement I've had in my life."

He counted on his fingers: "I've been on TV, surrounded by internet celebrities, and watched that little man Chen Zisheng get humiliated. If this were written into a script, it would be enough to shoot a TV series."

Liu Yang smiled but didn't speak, focusing on playing with his phone. His calm and composed demeanor was exactly the same as when he first participated in the competition—it was as if he was not going to the national finals but just going down the street to buy a cabbage.

The taxi traveled through the morning light, and Xiao Li gazed out the window, secretly sighing in his heart: No matter whether he won first place or not, it was worth it to have seen so many big scenes with the boss in this life. At least when boasting in the future, there would be some decent topics to talk about, right?

"Hey, boss," he suddenly remembered something, "what do you think the raw materials will be at the finals?"

Liu Yang looked up at him and gave a mysterious smile: "Wait and see."

The six "masters" stood in front of their workstations, their expressions more colorful than if they had eaten a basket of lemons. The four most ordinary ingredients were placed in front of them, as if silently mocking their usual "aristocratic demeanor."

Cabbage, celery, radish, plus a few crabs that looked somewhat unhappy, were lying on the cutting board so boldly, as if to say: "Come on, let's see how much skill you 'Michelin masters' have."

Xiao Yuan Shan stared at the cabbage, his eyes dazed as if looking at a heavenly book. This man, who usually fraternized with bird's nest and abalone, might not even be sure which way to place the cabbage heart at this moment.

Zhao Ming stared blankly at the celery, probably frantically searching his brain for the code of "how to make cheap vegetables look like Michelin." His expression was like that of a rich second generation who was forced to participate in a civilian life experience.

It was Liu Yang, however, who looked at these ingredients with shining eyes. This "dark cuisine" leader seemed to have seen some kind of treasure, and his excitement was like finding gold in the vegetable market.

The judges took their seats one after another, and Hu Jing's gaze swept across the faces of the contestants, with a meaningful smile on the corner of his mouth. This test, more than comparing cooking skills, was like giving these "geniuses" a lesson in "returning to simplicity."

Xiao Li stood on the side, watching all this, and couldn't help but secretly laugh in his heart: The program team's screenwriter must be someone who likes to see "masters" get embarrassed.

The live broadcast room's chat messages were like popcorn that had exploded, crackling and dazzling people's eyes. These keyboard warriors seemed to have found a new point of complaint, typing faster than machine guns.

"Is that it? Is that it? The national finals only have these broken vegetables? The vegetable market downstairs at my home is more upscale than this!"

"Hahaha, I'm dying of laughter. Is this a chef competition or a street stall competition?"

"I suggest the program team simply change the name to 'How to Make Cabbage Feel Like Michelin'!"

Some even began to sarcastically summarize:

"Today's menu: Master-level cabbage, high-priced celery, top radish, plus a few reluctant crabs. This is to let Michelin chefs experience a 'return to poverty' life!"

"Hey, don't run, let me guess what surprises there will be later: Michelin-level chopped pepper cabbage? Top celery stir-fried with glass noodles? Dark cuisine radish shreds? Or how about 'crab not confident'?"

The most amusing thing was that those who were originally waiting to see "high-end, atmospheric, and upscale" were like being robbed on the spot:

"I waited a month just for this? What's the difference between this and what my aunt cooks at home?"

Suddenly, a group of "rationalists" emerged in the live broadcast room. Their comments were like a breeze, dispersing the sour water sprayed by the keyboard warriors.

"Hahaha, these outsiders who always shout 'Michelin', do they really think chefs should always be in love with truffles and abalone?"

"Exactly, a true master should be able to play with ordinary vegetables, not rely on ingredients to support the facade."

A netizen who claimed to be a chef even refuted the keyboard warriors so thoroughly that they were speechless:

"Let me tell you a secret: the more skilled a chef is, the more they like to use ordinary ingredients. Among those who always shout that they must use expensive ingredients, nine out of ten are covering up their lack of skill."

A food critic also jumped out to popularize science:

"Do you know what Michelin star rating values the most? It's the chef's ability to handle ordinary ingredients! The one who can make cheap ingredients taste like a high price is the real skill."

These comments were like pouring a basin of cold water into a boiling pot, cooling down the most noisy complainers thoroughly.

The most amazing thing was an epicure's summary:

"Liu Yang, who can create miracles with a piece of tofu, and an incompetent hand who can mess up a piece of Kobe beef, who do you think is the real master?"

This comment was beautifully said, and it left those who always shouted "high-end ingredients" speechless.

At this moment, the contestants' faces showed a look of despair, and the host spoke: "Okay, let me announce the competition rules. All four ingredients must be used, and you can make one or two dishes. Each dish should not exceed thirty minutes."