This Hedonistic Young Master

Chapter 7: Roasted Duck and Rising Qi

As Tian Hao left the grand hall, the weight of expectations and criticisms clung to him like a damp robe. His father's disappointment, Elder Hua's disdain, Liang Chen's cold contempt – each a barb tugging at his fragile composure. Tian Hao clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his calm facade, each emotion gnawing at him like a persistent itch. Yet, beneath the surface, a spark of defiant excitement flickered. This disapproval, this precarious position, ironically offered a kind of freedom. He was already a failure in their eyes. What did he have to lose? He could forge his own path, even if it was paved with indulgence.

The aroma, a symphony of simmering spices and roasting meats, grew stronger with each step, guiding him like a fragrant beacon. He entered the kitchens through a wide archway, the scene before him a chaotic ballet of culinary creation. Large cauldrons bubbled furiously over roaring flames, their contents exhaling fragrant steam that danced in the flickering light. Nearby, woks sizzled as chefs expertly tossed ingredients, sending bursts of aroma into the air, the flames licking the sides with a fierce intensity. The rhythmic clang of cleavers against chopping blocks punctuated the air, a percussive counterpoint to the sizzle and hiss of ingredients meeting hot oil.

Amidst this organized chaos, Wu Zhong, or Fatty Wu as he was known, held court—a figure Tian Hao recognized clearly from the fragmented memories of the previous Tian Hao, memories filled with the scents of savory stews and the echo of Wu Zhong's booming laughter.

Wu Zhong, a young man whose girth rivaled his culinary skill, stood with a broad stance, his hands confidently on his hips, a twinkle in his eye as he presided over his domain like a benevolent Buddha. His round belly strained against his apron, a testament to his dedication to the art of gastronomy. His cheeks, flushed from the heat of the kitchen, shone with a healthy sheen, and his eyes twinkled with an almost childlike glee. Despite his size, his movements were surprisingly deft, his hands working with the practiced ease of a master puppeteer as he stirred a bubbling pot, the ladle moving with a graceful precision that belied its size.

As he worked, Wu Zhong winked at one of the junior cooks nearby, his voice full of mock seriousness. "You see, young one, true mastery lies in making even a simple stew taste like a celestial delicacy. Watch and learn!" The junior cook chuckled, shaking his head, clearly used to Wu Zhong's antics.

Wu Zhong turned as Tian Hao entered, his eyes widening in surprise before lighting up with a joy that seemed to radiate outwards, warming the entire kitchen. "Young Master Tian Hao! What an honor to have you grace my humble kitchens with your presence!" he exclaimed, wiping his flour-dusted hands on his apron with a flourish. His voice, warm and booming, held a note of genuine pleasure, a clear indication that this was a man who found joy in his craft.

Tian Hao grinned, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, a hint of unease still shadowing his face, the echoes of his earlier performance lingering. He was still acclimating to this new skin, this new life of unearned privilege. The gnawing hunger in his belly, however, grounded him, a reminder of a basic need that transcended social status and cultivated power.

"Fatty Wu," he began, his tone aiming for playful confidence but tinged with an awkwardness he couldn't quite shake off, "I require a feast. Something spectacular. Something to truly indulge in."

Wu Zhong, his smile broadened into a beam that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He seemed oblivious to the slight hesitation in Tian Hao's voice, focused only on the prospect of culinary creation. "A feast, you say? Well, Young Master, you've come to the right place! Consider it done!" He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook his ample frame.

With a sudden burst of energy, Wu Zhong began barking orders to the other chefs, his voice ringing with an infectious enthusiasm. "Bring out the finest ingredients! The snow pheasant eggs! The cloud mushrooms! The jadeheart lotus root! Today, we cook for Young Master Tian Hao!" The kitchen did not erupt into activity as Wu Zhong had hoped. Instead, most of the chefs continued with their tasks, some throwing skeptical glances his way, clearly aware that Wu Zhong was merely a junior cook.