Chapter 26: A Dash of Heaven, A Pinch of Hell

Zhuge groaned softly. "Oh joy, here we go… Li Fan, this is Chef Gaotu. He's one of our… specialists."

Gaotu flicked a fan open (where had that come from?) and waved it as if dispersing a bad smell. "Specialist in gourmet refinement, dear mortal. I have simmered moonlight in a soup and distilled phoenix essence into a glaze. I'd be happy to give you pointers, lest your crude mortal techniques embarrass the Jade Emperor's table."

Li Fan blinked. Was this immortal offering help or insulting him? It sounded like both. Gaotu's smile didn't reach his eyes, which sized up Li Fan's simple robe and mortal hands.

Yuechan stepped up, polite but firm. "Chef Gaotu, Master Li Fan got Heaven's attention on his own merits. Perhaps allow him to work without… interference. Unless the Jade Emperor specifically requested you to be his tutor?"

Gaotu's smile tightened. Clearly, Yuechan's status as a Celestial handmaiden gave her some clout; he inclined his head but his eyes flashed with annoyance. "Of course not, Lady Yuechan. I only wished to help. We wouldn't want tonight's feast to be remembered for a… culinary mishap."

Li Fan bit back a retort – something about how one could choke on arrogance. Instead, he respectfully said, "I appreciate the concern, Chef Gaotu, but I think I'll manage. Perhaps you can show me where I might find some ingredients to use? I wouldn't know my way around the celestial pantry."

Zhuge gave a short laugh at that. "Fair. Mortal, follow me. Let's get you set up." He led Li Fan across the kitchen to a series of shelves and cupboards that seemed to stretch on forever, like a library of edibles. Jars of spices hummed with inner power. Baskets of produce glowed faintly. A slab of meat in one corner actually blinked at Li Fan – he decided not to ask.

"Take what you need, within reason. Some things here would kill a mortal if mishandled, and I don't want a mess," Zhuge warned. "Also, mind the Knifewing Butterflies."

"The what now?" Li Fan said, just as a blur of color whooshed past his face, nearly grazing his ear. He turned to see a kaleidoscopic butterfly the size of a dinner plate flutter by, its wings thin like razor blades. It landed on a pile of sugar blossoms, slicing them neatly with each flap.

Li Fan swallowed. "Right. Mind the butterflies. Got it."

This place was both a dream and a death trap for a cook – ingredients of immense power and flavor, but likely requiring immortal control and knowledge. He ran a finger along some labels: Cloud Truffles, Star Anise (literally pieces of stars), Dragon Pepper scales, Milk of the Moon Cow (huh). A mortal could get into serious trouble. Good thing he had a bit of experience with quirky ingredients: he'd cooked with a Vermilion Bird feather and Fiery Pepper before, albeit one tiny pinch.

He took a deep breath. What dish to make? The fried rice was what wowed them originally. Fried rice was adaptable – he could elevate it. But maybe he should try something bolder? Then again, why abandon what worked? In the mortal world, he combined simple ingredients with one special kick (the Fiery Spirit Pepper) and that did the trick. Perhaps a similar approach with celestial ingredients: mostly down-to-earth tastes but one or two heavenly sparks.

He started gathering items that felt within his comfort zone:

Spiritual Rice, the staple. Heavenly rice grains glistened like pearls and hovered slightly above the bowl (that could be useful for fluffiness).

A few cloves of Garlic of Purity (each clove shone bright white and smelled divine – garlic was universal, even gods should like garlic, right?).

Some green Moon-Onions (when he sliced one experimentally, it let out a soft musical chime and no tears – nice!).

He found eggs labeled "Roc Eggs", but they were bigger than his head. Perhaps not. Instead, he located Quail Phoenix Eggs, small with a warm orange glow. He gently took a couple – they chirped faintly, making him jump. Hopefully that was normal.

For protein, he saw exotic options like Kirin steak and Dragon shrimp, but he feared overreaching. Then he spotted something familiar: a side of Cloud-Iron Pork (he'd used that during the imperial contest). It was a pig raised on floating isles, light and tender – but this version was from the celestial source. It radiated a faint aura. He sliced a tiny piece off – it cut like tofu, incredibly delicate. Perfect for quick stir-fry. He gathered a few slices.

Now for the "special kick". He needed something akin to that Fiery Spirit Pepper but at a heavenly level. There! A jar on a high shelf labeled "Hellfire Chili Essence – Use Sparingly." It was sealed with multiple talismans. Yikes. Perhaps too much? He recalled how a mere pinch of the mortal spirit pepper had given his dish an almost explosive qi. The heavenly equivalent might cause an actual explosion. He decided to take a single dried Hellfire Chili (bright red, slightly smoking) instead of the essence oil. One chili should be manageable if he minced it very, very finely.

As he gathered ingredients in his arms, an ethereal humming filled the storeroom. It took him a second to realize it was coming from a tall jar in the corner – a jar with a face painted on it. It watched him, humming. Li Fan coughed. "Um… hello?"

The jar wobbled. "Oh! Hello there. Are you the mortal chef? I'm the Pickled Ancestor. Need any preserved things? I've got pickled everything – from ginger to dragon whiskers." The face on the jar grinned eagerly.

Li Fan had to force himself not to question the absurdity – a talking pickle jar? Sure, why not, this was Heaven. "Nice to meet you, Senior… Ancestor. I think I'm good. Maybe some pickled ginger?" Ginger always added freshness.

The jar spat out a small wrapped bundle. "One immortal-grade pickled ginger, on the house. Give 'em a taste of zing!"

"Thank you," Li Fan said politely, tucking it away. He really hoped these ingredients cooperated once on the stove.

He returned to the main kitchen area, arms full. Master Zhuge looked over the selection. "Not bad. You chose relatively safely. Some mortals get cocky and try the Phoenix hearts or Kraken ink their first time – ends poorly."

At the mention of "ends poorly", Gaotu drifted by, pretending to accidentally elbow one of Li Fan's Moon-Onions off the counter. The onion hit the floor with a bell-like ding and rolled away. "Oops, how clumsy of me," Gaotu said, smirking.

Li Fan frowned and retrieved the onion. Yuechan, who had been watching from a respectful distance, narrowed her eyes. That guy is going to be a problem, Li Fan thought.

He set a large celestial wok on a crystal stove. Immediately, a blue flame (perhaps a bit of Hongyan's kin?) ignited under it on its own. The wok began to levitate-spin gently over the flame – a self-frying wok! Fancy.

Focus. Li Fan shut out the background noise of the kitchen. In his mind, this was just another late-night cooking session. He lined up his ingredients, grabbed a knife. With practiced ease, he started chopping: dice the Cloud-Iron pork into bite-size morsels, mince the garlic (it released tiny puffs of light as he did so), slice the Moon-Onions (which sang a soft lullaby until he finished the last cut).

He cracked the Phoenix Quail eggs – the yolks were fiery orange, almost too hot to touch, but he quickly whisked them. The spiritual rice he kept ready, and the Hellfire Chili… He used half of it, carefully slicing wafer-thin pieces. Each slice let out a sizzle sound by itself, and the kitchen's ambient noise hushed just a bit as if even they respected the chili's power. Use sparingly indeed.

He felt someone at his elbow – Yuechan passed him a small bowl of what looked like ordinary salt. "Use this instead," she whispered. "It's Celestial Sea Salt – it will enhance the flavor better than that coarse stuff."