The Quest for Culinary Purpose

Ever since his fierce scolding of the orphans, the children had kept their distance from him. Tang Wenxu truly began to understand the stinging loneliness of an empty nest.

He had grown weary of his idleness in the church, bored of merely sitting around. It was then that he remembered Father Kant’s recommendation for him to become a chef. Indeed, he needed something to do. With this thought firmly in mind, Tang Wenxu once again set foot in Komi City, determined to find a job.

Ever since his arrival in this otherworld, where he was forced to abandon his internet addiction, cooking had become his greatest passion.

Back on Earth, there was a particular video-sharing website—jokingly nicknamed the “Gay Site” by its users—that he frequented. This site not only allowed for the free viewing of anime but also offered detailed lessons in cuisines from all over the world. Consequently, Tang Wenxu’s culinary skills encompassed a vast range of both Eastern and Western traditions.

This time, his objective was clear: to find work as a chef in a restaurant. He was confident that with thousands of years of Earth’s gastronomic culture behind him, he could carve out a significant place for himself in Komi City’s culinary scene.

Komi City was a bustling metropolis, and its Central Shopping Street was lined with lavishly decorated grand hotels. However, Tang Wenxu’s job search proved anything but easy. Upon seeing Tang Wenxu, the waiters at the entrances of these large establishments wouldn’t even grant him a moment to speak, immediately turning him away.

Truthfully, one couldn’t fault the waiters. Tang Wenxu’s best attire was a patch-free but coarse cloth tunic, and his hair was somewhat disheveled, making him appear no different from an ordinary villager. Would a person cooking for a king ever be as unremarkable as a commoner? Clearly not. And on Komi City’s Central Shopping Street, every patron was treated like royalty.

He visited several more grand hotels, all ending in failure. At one particular restaurant, the owner even summoned his head chef to mock him.

“See that? This is a true chef. Why don’t you two have a little contest?” the owner declared.

A strikingly handsome chef emerged, looking more like a bodybuilder than a culinary artist. The moment he stepped out, Tang Wenxu almost involuntarily gasped, ‘He’s like a European Daniel Wu!’

Tang Wenxu felt there was no need for a competition; he had already lost in every aesthetic sense.

“My apologies for the disturbance,” he murmured, retreating.

Clearly, the opulent Central Shopping Street was not for him; it was the exclusive playground of high society.

Tang Wenxu left the main thoroughfare and made his way to the Old Quarter. The restaurants here, while not luxurious, still appeared respectable. Finally, his perseverance paid off. One owner was willing to assess his cooking. Tang Wenxu meticulously prepared several of his signature dishes, eager to secure a job quickly and shed the label of “freeloader.”

Undoubtedly, the owner was deeply impressed by Tang Wenxu’s exquisite culinary artistry. Though for a fleeting moment, the owner seemed as if he might ascend to heaven, that sensation lasted only as long as the food was in his mouth. Once he had recovered, the owner did not lavish praise on the cooking. Instead, he simply stated that Tang Wenxu still had much to improve upon.

“You are still a long way from being a truly gifted chef,” the owner said with a self-satisfied air.

“Does that mean I can’t work here, sir?” Tang Wenxu asked tremulously. While it wasn’t his last hope, he genuinely wanted to find work swiftly.

“No, no, no,” the owner quickly waved his hand. “You show great promise. You can certainly work here.”

“Really?! Thank you, Boss!” Tang Wenxu breathed a sigh of relief, excitedly grasping the owner’s hand. “By the way, Boss, please tell me where I fall short. I will strive to improve.”

“First, your dishes take too long to complete. Making guests wait too long is disrespectful to them.”

Tang Wenxu silently took notes, like a humble student.

“Second, your selection of ingredients isn’t professional enough. Come with me; I’ll show you a thing or two.” The owner led Tang Wenxu toward the kitchen.

Inside stood a meat grinder. The owner opened the cellar and retrieved a horrifying assortment of items: dead rats, cat tails, deceased birds, and meat crawling with flies and maggots. As if oblivious to the filth, the owner dumped all these ingredients into the meat grinder.

Before long, sausages began to emerge from the machine. The owner said proudly, “A truly gifted chef is also a gifted magician, capable of making rat meat taste like beef.”

“Isn’t that deceiving customers? Didn’t you say customers should be treated as emissaries of the Goddess?” Tang Wenxu found it hard to breathe.

“Customers are emissaries of the Goddess? No, child, you are mistaken. The gold coins in a customer’s pocket are the true emissaries. Everything we do is to efficiently earn more of them.”

The owner was a true merchant, for his heart was black. Although earning money was difficult, Tang Wenxu refused to blacken his soul for it.

“I quit,” Tang Wenxu declared resolutely.

“Wait! Isn’t the pay enough? I can offer you a higher salary, please don’t leave…” But Tang Wenxu’s back quickly disappeared amidst the owner’s pleas. The man had failed to keep the golden goose.

Where paths diverge, plans cannot align. Tang Wenxu loved cooking, and he loved seeing the happy expressions on people’s faces as they ate his food—just as his mother used to smile when she watched him eat her cooking. To compromise his conscience for mere gold coins felt like betraying his mother’s memory.

For Tang Wenxu, a job could be lost, but integrity could not. Though he was now poor, he had once been Young Master Tang; he had his pride, and he would never compromise.

He sat back on a park bench, basking in the sun, and watched the diverse crowd pass by, lost in thought. He felt as if leaving the church had merely been a change from one place of contemplation to another.