The ingredients on the table were neatly arranged, each kind in order. A squid, after a quick dip in boiling water, curled into a cluster the size of half a palm, its pattern bulging out, each cut uniform and meticulous; the renowned shredded cucumber, at first glance, seemed to have been cut into thin slices, but they were still connected by a bit of the skin. With a gentle pull using both hands, they unfolded into a long strip, each slice evenly thick. Rolled up on a plate and drizzled with some sauce, it made a pleasingly crisp-looking dish.
It was only then that the audience dared to utter exclamations of amazement, though the words themselves were indistinct, likely just meaningless expressions of wonder.
Han Fengzhi was aware that he had gotten the upper hand in this first round, a hint of smugness on his face. He cast a fleeting glance at Hua Xiaomai's cutting board, and the corners of his lips that were about to curl up fell back down.
