Chapter 163 One Bite and You're Smitten! The "Crab Stuffed Orange" That Brings Tears
The small silver spoon was forcefully shoved into his mouth.
Jiang Jianguo kept his eyes tightly closed, and the wrinkles between his brows were so deep that they could trap a fly.
He was even prepared to spit the thing on the ground as soon as he tasted even a hint of something strange.
Then he slammed his fist on the table and began to mock the arrogant young cook.
The temperature inside the mouth is very high.
The scalding heat from the freshly cooked pot spread from the tip of the tongue all the way down to the depths of the throat.
Jiang Jianguo, filled with criticism and hostility, clenched his teeth fiercely.
The soft orange pulp bursts open instantly between your teeth.
The crab roe and crab meat encased inside are released without reservation.
Time seemed to stand still for that one second.
Jiang Jianguo's tightly furrowed brows suddenly shot upwards.
The nauseating fishy smell he had imagined was nowhere to be found.
There is not even the slightest trace of the muddy smell characteristic of aquatic products.
Instead, it is replaced by an overwhelming, rich and delicious flavor.
The autumn crab's roe and fat reached their peak, carrying a rich, oily aroma that instantly filled the entire tongue.
If it's pure crab roe, eating too much of it will definitely make you feel greasy.
But the sweet orange flavor, enhanced by the high temperature, stepped up at the most crucial moment.
Fruit acids, like the most precise conductor, easily dissolve the heaviness of lard and crab roe.
The aroma of aged Shaoxing wine lingers deep in the throat, releasing a subtle, intoxicating sweetness.
These distinct flavors do not clash in the slightest.
They blend together perfectly, with distinct layers, yet forming a unified whole.
It was as if a nuclear bomb made of pure umami had exploded in Jiang Jianguo's mouth!
The intense taste sensation directly severed his nerve reflexes.
Jiang Jianguo's body froze completely.
He remained slightly leaning forward, the small silver spoon in his hand abruptly suspended in mid-air.
His eyes remained closed, but his eyelids were trembling violently.
The teeth chewed slowly and unconsciously.
The plump, bouncy, snow-white crab meat releases an irresistible juice as you savor it.
He had just eaten high-end king crab that was flown in by air that morning.
The dish was exquisite and expensive, and its presentation was as magnificent as a work of art.
But in Jiang Jianguo's eyes at that moment, the king crab was nothing more than a plate of lifeless, tasteless food.
But the crab-stuffed orange in my mouth is fresh and alive.
It carries a soul, a sense of everyday life, and a terrifying power that can penetrate the barriers of time.
With the food in his mouth, Jiang Jianguo felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
This taste is so familiar.
It was so familiar that the hairs on his body stood on end at that moment.
This dish doesn't have any of those fancy modern industrial seasonings.
There's no MSG to enhance flavor, no chemically synthesized flavorings, and none of those cold, standardized procedures.
It is so pure that it is free of any impurities, and so straightforward that it is utterly unambiguous.
This scent penetrated the hard shell he had built with money and status over the decades.
It struck directly at the deepest, most hidden corner of his heart.
The floodgates of memory were violently flung open by this fresh and sweet taste.
The scene instantly rewinds to more than forty years ago.
It was a chilly late autumn day, with fallen leaves drifting down.
At that time, Jiang Jianguo was not yet the richest man in Beijing with a net worth of hundreds of billions.
He was just a child wearing a patched and tattered cotton-padded coat, and his family was not well-off.
Next door to his house lived a wealthy family who had moved from the south.
The high blue brick walls blocked the view inside the courtyard, but they couldn't block the aroma of food wafting out.
Jiang Jian's family was so poor they couldn't afford to eat, and they could only eat hard cornbread every meal.
That evening, a peculiar fragrance suddenly wafted from the neighboring yard.
It's this domineering and savory flavor of orange peel mixed with rich crab roe.
For a little boy who hadn't eaten a single drop of fat, this smell was an irresistible temptation.
Xiao Jianguo moved a broken stool with a missing leg and placed it under his feet.
He clung to the cold brick wall, desperately tiptoeing, and pressed his nose close to the crack in the wall.
In the neighboring yard, the family's child was eating a golden orange with gusto, his mouth dripping with oil.
Laughter and cheerful voices drifted over on the cold wind.
On this side of the wall, Jiang Jianguo was holding half a cold roasted sweet potato in his hand.
He took a big bite of the sweet potato in his hand while smelling the strange aroma wafting over.
Pretend that what you're eating is also a heavenly delicacy.
Hunger, mixed with an intense craving for that aroma, was deeply ingrained in his very being.
That night, he made a silent vow in the cold wind.
When he grows up and makes a lot of money, he will definitely buy a hundred crabs and eat his fill!
Later, he really did become rich.
Having tasted all the delicacies from land and sea, he can afford to buy thousands of top-quality autumn crabs.
He spent a fortune hiring countless famous chefs, trying to find the smell he had once caught while peering over the wall.
But without exception, they all failed.
The dishes made by those famous chefs are either too exquisite or too crafty.
It always lacked that purity that could pierce the soul.
He has everything, but he has forever lost that unattainable fragrance from his childhood.
But now, in this dilapidated courtyard in the alley.
In the hands of this young chef whom he despised and even wanted to ruin.
This flavor has miraculously transcended time and space.
The elusive aroma he had smelled forty years ago was perfectly embodied on the tip of his tongue.
This is not a simple replication; it is a resonance of souls.
A muffled whimper escaped Jiang Jianguo's throat.
The dam of "reason" in his mind crumbled instantly at that moment.
Those vicious words used to nitpick, those arrogant plans to overturn the table.
Everything crumbled into dust before this flavor.
An overwhelming wave of sorrow surged through my nasal cavity.
Jiang Jianguo's eyes instantly turned red, and dense red blood vessels appeared in the depths of his eyes.
He tried desperately to open his eyes, attempting to use the night breeze to dispel the heat from his eyes.
He is Jiang Jianguo.
In the business world, he can turn the world upside down with a flick of his wrist; he's always the one who makes others cry.
How could you shed tears in a young kid's restaurant?
But he simply couldn't control himself.
My vision blurred instantly.
Two murky tears finally broke through the barrier in their eyes.
It slipped silently down his wrinkled eyes.
"Clatter."
A soft dripping sound.
Tears fell onto the rim of the warm, smooth celadon bowl in front of her, splashing up a tiny water droplet.
This tear shattered the tycoon's arrogant and hypocritical dignity.
To hell with the Jiang family's reputation!
Screw it, flip the table and smash the place!
Screw nitpicking!
Jiang Jianguo completely abandoned all so-called facial expression management.
He suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze devoid of the previous scheming and cunning.
Instead, a kind of fanaticism bordering on greed took hold.
He was like a destitute refugee who had been starving for a whole week and finally saw hot steamed buns.
He suddenly leaned forward and lay face down on the wooden table.
He spread his left arm and tightly embraced the celadon tray in his bosom.
It was as if they were afraid someone would come up and snatch it away.
His right hand gripped the small silver spoon tightly, his movements so fast they left a blur.
He scooped spoonful after spoonful into the steaming orange cup.
He didn't even care that it was too hot to eat.
They stuffed large mouthfuls of the piping hot, delicious crab meat into their mouths.
They didn't chew slowly or savor the food.
They wolfed down their food almost instinctively, as if trying to swallow this taste that was forty years overdue, with interest.
Plenty of juice dripped down the corners of his mouth, landing on his dirty, tattered military coat.
He was completely unaware.
He swallowed hard, making muffled sobs in his throat.
The tears flowed more and more fiercely, falling like beads from a broken string.
His vision was completely blurred by tears, so he used his sleeve, which smelled of mothballs, to wipe his face haphazardly.
The rough fabric rubbed his eyes until they were red, but he didn't care at all.
He continued to look down, frantically waving the spoon.
Everyone else in the courtyard was dumbfounded.
Zhou Yang held the teacup to his lips, his mouth slightly open, and remained open for a long time.
His old eyes, accustomed to painting landscapes, flowers, and birds, were now filled with disbelief.
Wang Cuncun even slowed his breathing.
They were afraid of disturbing the old man who had fallen into some kind of madness.
The diners who had initially been watching with a somewhat detached, spectator-like attitude all tacitly remained silent.
No one laughed out loud.
Because everyone could see that what the old man was eating was not just a dish.
That was an obsession he had carried for most of his life.
The autumn wind was still swirling in the courtyard.
But Jiang Jianguo could no longer feel the slightest bit of cold.
His stomach felt warm, and even his heart, which had long been cold and hardened by the pursuit of fame and fortune, was softened.
The sound of the spoon scraping the inside of the orange peel was particularly jarring in the quiet courtyard.
"Sizzle, sizzle."
In less than ten minutes.
That once plump orange has now been completely hollowed out.
Jiang Jianguo didn't even let go of the smallest bit of fruit flesh on the edge.
He used a spoon to scrape the inside of the orange peel clean, leaving only a thin, translucent layer of orange skin.
Even the little bit of soup mixed with oil that overflowed from the bottom of the plate.
Without any regard for his image, he picked up the celadon plate and licked it clean with his tongue.
Jiang Jianguo smacked his lips, still savoring the taste.
The wonderful aftertaste of crab roe and orange juice still lingered in my mouth.
He lowered his head, looking at the empty orange cup, his eyes filled with a lingering sense of loss.
He was still clutching the small silver spoon tightly in his hand, unwilling to put it down.
He even disregarded the stares of others and stuck out his tongue to carefully lick both sides of the spoon.
He completely forgot that he was still the big shot who could make the business world of Beijing tremble with a flick of his finger.
Just then.
A series of unhurried footsteps came from the direction of the kitchen.
With a creak.
The cloth curtain was lifted again.
Lin Mo held a clean towel in his hand and slowly wiped the water stains off his hands.
He strode out of the kitchen with his long legs.
He slightly raised his eyes, his gaze naturally falling on the main table.
Just right, perfectly balanced.
They bumped into the old man wearing a tattered military coat, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red-rimmed.
He was licking his food with a spoon in his hand, and the plate in front of him was as clean as if it had been washed.
Lin Mo saw everything about his ravenous eating and miserable state.