Then there was Xiao Chen, our assistant chef at Lin’s Wontons, and my loyal little fanboy. He had been visiting the studio frequently lately, saying he was there to cheer me on, but actually to provide me with “intel.” He’s a bit goofy, but his ears are incredibly sharp.

That day, he mysteriously pulled me aside and whispered, “Sister Wei, I heard the staff talking. Someone’s been asking about your competition habits and your frequently used seasonings.” My heart tightened. Asking about my competition habits? My seasonings? That didn’t sound good at all.

“Who’s asking?” I asked him. Xiao Chen scratched his head. “I don’t know, I just heard them say it seemed to be someone from Lucas’s side, but not Lucas himself. It felt… a bit sinister.” Sinister? Lucas’s brother, Max, immediately flashed into my mind. I had only seen that man once, at a contestant gathering. He had been sarcastic and dismissive towards Lucas, his eyes filled with jealousy and disdain. I felt then that something was off about him; he exuded a gloomy aura.

I’ve always had sharp instincts, and I felt this wasn’t as simple as it seemed, like there was a strange taste in the cooking, not from oil smoke, but from conspiracy, and this conspiracy tasted a bit like Lucas’s brother’s cologne. I started paying close attention to everything around me, noticing small details, like sometimes there would be things on my workstation that weren’t mine, or a little bit of my ingredients would mysteriously disappear. These small details, individually, were nothing, but strung together, they were chilling. My internal alarm blared. It seemed the waters of this “Kitchen Showdown” were deeper than I had imagined.

The elimination round arrived as scheduled, with the theme “Classic Reinvention.” I planned to make a revamped “Mapo Tofu,” retaining its essence while adding innovative elements to give it international appeal. I was full of confidence; after all, I’d eaten this dish since childhood and could make it with my eyes closed.

The night before the competition, I checked my spice bag as usual. I keep some secret blend of spices in a separate bag; it’s the “soul” of Lin’s Wontons. When I opened the bag, I suddenly smelled an unfamiliar spice. I looked closely: my bottle of secret chili oil, the color was wrong! It looked redder and brighter than usual, and it had a pungent chemical smell. My heart sank. It had been replaced! My spirits plummeted. Who? Why?

I immediately thought of what Xiao Chen had told me earlier, Emily’s unusual behavior, and that furtive man. All clues pointed in one direction—someone wanted to harm me! But what could I do? The competition was about to begin; I had no time to replace the seasoning, no time to investigate. I could only grit my teeth and pretend I hadn’t noticed anything.

As the competition began, I suppressed my unease and proceeded with making Mapo Tofu as planned. When I poured the tampered chili oil into the wok, my heart ached as if being sliced by a knife. That chemical smell rapidly spread in the hot oil; I could even smell a strange odor that didn’t belong to food. I desperately tried to mask and balance it with other seasonings, but I knew the dish was ruined.

When I presented the Mapo Tofu to the judges, my hands were trembling. The judges picked up their spoons and cautiously took a bite. The first judge’s brow immediately furrowed. He put down his spoon and shook his head: “Ms. Lin, this Mapo Tofu… the taste is very strange. There’s an… indescribable odd flavor, and the spiciness is overly harsh, completely lacking the depth Mapo Tofu should have.” The second judge echoed him: “Yes, this is definitely not Lin’s Wontons’ standard. I’m very disappointed.”

Hearing their comments, I felt as if my world had instantly emptied, leaving only endless coldness and void. My cooking was what I was most proud of in my life, and now, it had been defiled like this. I looked at the Mapo Tofu, rejected by the judges, tears welling in my eyes, my throat feeling like it was choked with burning charcoal, aching and bitter. I desperately controlled my emotions, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, preventing myself from breaking down. My heart ached as if it were being cut by a knife; that despair was worse than death. I could even hear the sound of my heart breaking, thump by thump, pounding on my crumbling nerves. I lost. I completely lost. Lin’s Wontons, my home, my dream, my future—everything was over. I could even see my dad’s despairing old face, and that potato-man from the Wang family, smiling triumphantly at me. That smile, in my eyes, was more hateful than a demon’s grin.

Just as I felt myself sinking into the despair of elimination, a voice suddenly rang out, interrupting the judges’ comments: “Wait! This competition is unfair!” All eyes turned in unison to the source of the voice. It was Lucas! He walked over from his cooking station, an unprecedented seriousness on his face.

Director Wang frowned: “Mr. Lucas, please mind the occasion.” Lucas ignored Director Wang. He walked directly to my cooking station, picked up my tampered chili oil, and presented it to the judges and cameras: “Esteemed judges, dear audience, this bottle of chili oil is not Ms. Lin’s original recipe. It was maliciously replaced to frame Ms. Lin and force her out of the competition.” His voice was firm and resonant.

The entire hall erupted! The audience murmured, and the cameras furiously zoomed in on Lucas and me. I stared at him in shock, completely unprepared for him to suddenly stand up for me. I even wondered if I was dreaming. Lucas continued: “I have proof. My brother, Max, in order to seize the family inheritance, resorted to unscrupulous means. He bribed a staff member to secretly replace Ms. Lin’s seasoning. Here is the call recording between him and that staff member, as well as the transfer records.” With that, he pulled out a USB drive from his pocket and handed it to Director Wang.

Director Wang took the USB drive, his face turning very grim. He immediately sent someone to verify it. Max’s face instantly turned pale when he heard Lucas’s words. He tried to argue, but Lucas’s evidence left him speechless. He was escorted away by staff, and as he left, he glared at me viciously, as if he wanted to devour me whole.

The scene was chaotic, my mind buzzing. Lucas… he did all this for me? To expose his brother’s conspiracy? Why would he do that? Didn’t he always look down on me? Just as I was bewildered, Lucas turned, his blue eyes looking at me deeply, and then he made a decision that shocked everyone: “Director Wang, I propose that Ms. Lin and I team up for the rest of the competition. I am willing to forfeit my current scores and start from scratch with her.”

At these words, the entire hall erupted again. Team up? This was explosive news! I looked at Lucas, filled with shock and confusion. What was he doing? Was he crazy? He was the crown prince of French cuisine; why would he give up everything for me? I thought he would be the one to step over me to climb higher, but instead, he extended a hand. At that moment, I suddenly felt that this world might not be as bad as I imagined, and it even had a certain… damn romance.

Lucas’s words exploded like a bomb in my heart. Team up? That was absolutely preposterous! I looked at his sincere eyes, but my heart was filled with conflict. Should I trust him? Why was he helping me? Did he have some other motive? My dad’s pressure for the arranged marriage, the restaurant’s survival, and Max’s conspiracy—it all felt like a tangled mess, binding me tightly.

Director Wang eventually agreed to Lucas’s proposal; after all, such a dramatic reversal was a godsend for the show’s ratings. Lucas and I were arranged in a lounge for our first “secret meeting.” The air was thick with an awkward and tense atmosphere.

“Ms. Lin, I know you might have doubts about me.” Lucas broke the silence, his voice deep and resonant. “But I assure you, everything I’ve done is to expose my brother’s conspiracy, and… for you.” He looked at me, a hint of imperceptible tenderness in his eyes. My heart stirred, but I quickly reverted to my “Lin Wei mode.”

“For me? Don’t joke around, Mr. Lucas. We’ve only known each other for a few days. You don’t need to give up everything for me,” I said, a touch of sarcasm in my voice. He gave a bitter smile: “You’re right, we haven’t known each other long. But your… pure dedication and passion for cooking, I truly admire it. When I saw you being framed, I couldn’t just stand by. Besides, my brother’s actions have crossed my bottom line.” He paused, then explained Max’s motives to me.

It turned out Max was his half-brother, who had lived in Lucas’s shadow since childhood. He envied Lucas’s talent and status, always longing for the family inheritance. He thought that if Lucas lost the competition, he could seize the opportunity to take everything from Lucas. Lucas also told me that he was able to obtain the evidence because he had been secretly investigating Max; he had long suspected Max would try something underhanded.

As I listened to his explanation, the cold stone in my heart began to melt little by little. I might have a fiery temper, but I’m not stupid. If he was willing to take such a big risk for me, it couldn’t just be because I’m pretty, could it? Well, I’d have to see what he was really up to, poison or honey. Ultimately, I decided to trust him. After all, at this point, I had no other choice but to trust him.

Over the next few days, Lucas and I began our “secret training.” Every night, we’d meet in the studio kitchen, researching recipes together, trying new cooking methods. He taught me the finesse of French cuisine and the techniques of molecular gastronomy, while I taught him the heat control and seasoning of Chinese cooking. We went from initial awkwardness and discomfort to seamless coordination, sometimes even understanding each other with just a glance or a gesture. We were like two comrades-in-arms, bound by fate, fighting side by side for a common goal. My heart was both nervous and excited, looking forward to giving Max a harsh “surprise” in the finals.

During a late-night training session, we were both exhausted. I sat on the floor, looking out at the myriad lights of New York, suddenly feeling a little sentimental. I casually mentioned my mother, who was a gentle woman but passed away when I was very young. I remembered her wontons were the best in the world. That taste, warm and rich, with my mother’s unique aroma, was incomparable to any delicacy.

Lucas listened to my mother’s story without interrupting, just quietly absorbing it. When I finished, he suddenly stood up: “Ms. Lin, do you still remember the taste of your mother’s wontons? Can you describe it?” I was stunned, not understanding what he meant. I described my mother’s wontons in detail, from the selection of ingredients to the simmering of the broth, to the preparation of the filling.

He listened intently, occasionally asking questions like, “What kind of peppercorns did your mother use?” “Besides bones, were there any other ingredients in the broth?” I answered each question, feeling a bit puzzled. Was he trying to make wontons? But how could a French chef possibly recreate a Chinese dish?

The next day, Lucas called me into the kitchen. In front of him were various bottles and jars, and some instruments I couldn’t name. He mysteriously said, “Ms. Lin, I have a surprise for you.” He picked up a test tube, carefully dripped a few drops of liquid into a small bowl, then used a spray bottle to lightly mist above the bowl. Instantly, a familiar aroma filled the air.

When I smelled that scent, my body trembled. It wasn’t just ordinary wonton smell; it was… it was the taste of my mother’s wontons! My nose stung, and tears instantly streamed down my face. I picked up the small bowl and carefully tasted a bite. The taste was so real, so warm, so familiar. It wasn’t just flavor; it was memory, my mother’s love, the feeling of home. I felt like I wasn’t eating wontons, but traveling through time, returning to my mother’s embrace.

“How… how did you do this?” I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. He looked at me, a hint of tenderness in his eyes: “I used molecular gastronomy techniques. Based on your description, I analyzed the flavor components of your mother’s wontons, then recreated them using various spices and extracts.” He paused, then said, “I hope this taste can make you feel that you’re not fighting alone.”

In that instant, all my defenses, all my doubts, all my resentment completely melted away. I could no longer control my emotions; I threw myself into his arms and sobbed. I had never cried so messily in front of a man, but I didn’t care. I only knew that this man, he understood me, he comprehended me, and he gave me the deepest warmth and comfort. It turned out there really was a taste in this world that could heal everything, and also make one trust someone completely, without reservation.

With Lucas’s help, I felt like I had unlocked a hidden potential, filled with newfound power. We decided that in the finals, we would give Max a harsh “surprise,” letting him know what it means to “hoist oneself by one’s own petard.”

We devised a bold plan for the finals. The theme was “Tradition and Innovation.” We decided to create a revolutionary fusion using the most classic elements of both Chinese and Western cuisine. Lucas would handle the French part, and I the Chinese, but we would infuse each other’s essence into our respective dishes.

First, the main course. I suggested combining Laoganma chili crisp with foie gras. Lucas was initially hesitant, thinking such a “commoner’s condiment” wasn’t worthy of noble foie gras. But I explained the unique flavor of Laoganma and its status in Asian cuisine. He was finally convinced, and we worked together to figure out how to perfectly merge Laoganma’s spiciness with the foie gras’s richness, so neither overshadowed the other but instead complemented each other. We even tried making Laoganma into a sauce and then “atomizing” it with molecular techniques, creating a unique “aromatic cloud” around the foie gras. He was in charge of brainstorming, and I was in charge of cooking. We were simply a match made in heaven—no, a heaven-sent avenger alliance. Max, you just wait and cry. We’re going to show you what “two swords united, invincible under heaven” means!

Next was Lucas’s signature dish—red wine beef. I suggested he incorporate some Chinese braising techniques, like using star anise and cinnamon, to make the red wine beef more mellow and layered. He also proposed adding some Chinese hand-pulled noodles at the end to make the dish more filling and “homely.”

The most brilliant part was dessert. We both felt that dessert was the best choice for breaking conventions. I suggested making a “hot pot chocolate lava cake.” Lucas’s eyes lit up when he heard my idea. We made a lava cake from chocolate, filled with molten chocolate sauce, and then paired it with common Chinese hot pot ingredients like fruits, marshmallows, and even some chili chocolate shavings. This dessert, combining French romance with Chinese wildness, was sure to shock everyone.