Chocolate Chili

Appetizers

Wei Ying and Wen Qing turned on the house lights. They were both exhausted but for different reasons.
The treatment of Wen Ning was a success, but the young man was in pain,  and they needed to get the medicines from the pharmacy, make the right calls, and wait in line for long periods.

In the meantime, Wei Ying had to prepare for the competition. Preliminaries weren't easy, but they weren't impossible either. When he entered, he first noticed that the kitchen was spotless.

A young, beautiful lady was there smiling critically at him. Her hair was long, and her eyes had a ruthless intelligence despite the tick glasses and formal dress. his task was making dumpling. 

Lan Zhan stood at his station, meticulously organizing his ingredients. His mind raced, not with the challenge at hand but with the memory of Wei Ying. He recognized Wei Ying immediately, and the boyish grin transformed into the face of a confident young man. Yet, Wei Ying hadn't recognized him, and the sting of that realization gnawed at him. Lan Zhan's emotions simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in the precision with which he handled his ingredients.

He began preparing his Cantonese Shrimp Dumplings (Har Gow). The shrimp, bamboo shoots, and seasonings were mixed with the utmost care, his movements fluid and controlled. The translucent wheat starch dough required a delicate touch, each fold and crease a testament to his inner turmoil and discipline. As he arranged the dumplings in the steamer, he glanced over at Wei Ying, who was engrossed in his preparations, oblivious to the silent storm brewing in Lan Zhan's heart.

Wei Ying, on the other hand, was distracted. His thoughts were consumed with worry for Wen Ning, whose health had declined. He moved through the steps of preparing his Sichuan Spicy Wontons (Hong You Chao Shou) with an air of arrogance, a mask for his underlying anxiety. The ground pork, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns were mixed hastily, his hands working on autopilot as his mind drifted to Wen Ning's condition.

To the casual observer, Wei Ying appeared cocky, barely acknowledging those around him. This included Lan Zhan, whose piercing gaze Wei Ying was too preoccupied to notice. The thin wheat dough for his wontons was rolled out with precision born of practice, though his usual finesse was tinged with haste. Each wonton was filled and folded quickly, and the spicy chili oil sauce was prepared with a flourish that belied his internal chaos.

Meng Yao, positioned nearby, worked with a quiet intensity. His focus was razor-sharp, driven by a personal vendetta. The Shanghai Soup Dumplings (Xiaolongbao) he was preparing held deep significance; his mother passed down the recipe, a bittersweet reminder of happier times. The filling, a mixture of pork and gelatinized broth, was prepared meticulously, each step a tribute to his mother's memory and a step towards avenging her.

As he rolled out the thin wheat dough, his mind flashed back to his father's abandonment and his mother's subsequent struggles. The precision required to ensure the broth-filled dumplings wouldn't leak mirrored his determination to control his simmering rage. Each dumpling was a silent promise of retribution.

The air was thick with the aroma of cooking dumplings as the contestants moved with urgency and precision. Lan Zhan's dumplings steamed to translucent perfection, Wei Ying's wontons boiled to a spicy, aromatic finish, and Meng Yao's Xiaolongbao stood ready to burst with rich broth.

When the time was up, the contestants presented their dishes. Lan Zhan's Har Gow gleamed under the lights, each dumpling a delicate masterpiece. Wei Ying's Sichuan Spicy Wontons radiated bold flavors, the chili oil sauce glistening invitingly. Meng Yao's Xiaolongbao were plump and enticing, a testament to his skill and heritage.

As the judges began their evaluations, Lan Zhan's eyes never left Wei Ying, a mix of longing and frustration brewing within him. Wei Ying, still oblivious, accepted a piece of Lan Zhan's dumplings from Lan Xichen after the tasting.