James Bolton didn’t stop working with his hands as he spoke. In just a short while, he had already sliced the pork kidney into delicate patterns and soaked them in a bowl of clear water he’d prepared earlier. After switching to a vegetable knife and a cutting board meant for vegetables, he picked up two stalks of celtuce and began peeling and shredding them.

James Bolton spoke as if telling a story, and Megan York simply listened as if she were hearing one. When James Bolton finished, Megan York of course didn’t believe a word, pursing her lips and saying, “Even if Gu Long writes good novels, it doesn’t mean he can cook. How can you just cook the way it’s written in a novel? Novels are all made up, after all.”

“Haven’t you heard that novels come from real life? How do you know it won’t taste good if you haven’t even tried it?”

“The method is all wrong. It’d be a miracle if it tastes good.”

“Oh? That’s what you think? Then you’re not allowed to snatch any later!”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t eat it even if you begged me!”

James Bolton kept his hands busy while bantering leisurely with Megan York.

The kitchen in James Bolton’s home had a double-burner stove. Now he lit the other burner, set a wok on it, and once it was hot, poured in some cooking oil.

Unable to outtalk James Bolton, Megan York had to change the subject. “What dish are you making now? Are you going to tell me another story behind it?” By the end, her tone couldn’t help but turn sarcastic—she’d just lost the argument and was still a bit upset. After all, she was still a petty little girl.

James Bolton wasn’t bothered by Megan York’s unfriendly tone. He just smiled and said, “The next dish I’m making is stir-fried shredded celtuce. And believe it or not, there’s actually a story behind it!” As he spoke, James Bolton even raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Have you read Gu Long’s ‘Lu Xiaofeng’?”

“Not this again! Let me tell you one more time, I don’t read such old-fashioned books. Haven’t read it, haven’t read it, haven’t read it…” Megan York’s voice grew sharp and shrill, clearly flustered by his teasing.

James Bolton thoroughly enjoyed this pet-like banter, his eyes narrowing with laughter, though he kept a straight face as he continued, “Lu Xiaofeng had a monk friend, said to be his best cook, called Master Bitter Melon. The vegetarian dishes he made were second to none. And if you wanted to eat Master Bitter Melon’s food, you not only had to be a famous figure, but also follow the rules—like bathing and burning incense, and having the patience to wait. Most importantly, you had to catch him in a good mood. Don’t be fooled by how simple my stir-fried shredded celtuce looks—it’s the authentic handiwork of ‘Master Bitter Melon.’ You’re in for a treat, little girl.”

This time, Megan York didn’t bother to retort, instead taking a deep breath. James Bolton had already tossed the shredded celtuce into the wok. As the hot oil sizzled and popped, a light yet lingering fragrance wafted up. If you closed your eyes and inhaled, you could almost picture a springtime prairie in full bloom, your whole body relaxing in lazy contentment. And that wasn’t all—the aroma not only opened the mind, but also awakened a ravenous appetite. This was already a kind of culinary realm.

As soon as the ‘stir-fried shredded celtuce’ hit the wok, James Bolton gave it just a couple of quick stirs with the spatula, sprinkled in a pinch of fine salt, and didn’t add any other seasoning before serving it up. This dish was all about knife skills, stir-frying technique, and heat control—too much heat and it would burn, too little and it would be raw. Only when the oil in the wok was at just the right temperature could the celtuce’s fragrance be fully released. If your knife skills weren’t up to par and the shreds weren’t all the same thickness, some would end up undercooked or burnt. If your stir-frying technique was lacking and the heat wasn’t distributed evenly, the same would happen. So, though the dish seemed simple, it was a true test of skill—only a ‘master-level’ chef like James Bolton could pull it off. Even those top hotel chefs with all their fancy titles probably couldn’t make it this perfect.

Looking at the finished celtuce shreds, each piece was a vibrant green, glistening with oil, as if carved from the finest jade. The aroma was fresh and invigorating, intoxicating and mouthwatering. Even without tasting it yet, just the appearance and fragrance alone had already earned two out of three full marks for ‘color, aroma, and taste’ in Megan York’s mind.

Megan York looked at the dish with the longing of a cat eyeing a fish, making James Bolton chuckle. Considerately, he pulled a pair of chopsticks from the cupboard and handed them to her, saying gently with a suppressed smile, “Want to try?”

Megan York completely forgot her earlier disparagement of James Bolton’s cooking, deftly taking the chopsticks and reaching for the plate. “Hiss—ah—” After swallowing a mouthful of the hot dish, Megan York let out a long breath, her face full of bliss. Without even looking up, she reached for another big bite. If the aroma of this dish evoked the feeling of spring, then tasting it was like stepping right into spring itself! Truly the work of a top master chef—no wonder a master’s dish is always a masterpiece!