Chapter 10: God's Tongue Review
"His clothes just torn."
If you think about it carefully, this bizarre phenomenon often occurred to
General Totsuki during the Autumn Selection arc in the original story.
Eat something truly delicious—and your clothes explode.
It sounds ridiculous, but in that world, every participant in the Autumn
Selection was a genius, and every dish was a culmination of over ten years of
tireless culinary refinement.
So now, standing before the legendary Food Demon himself, Xia Yu couldn't
understand—
Why?
Why had this Mapo Tofu, which he'd only been refining for a few
days, made Nakiri Senzaemon burst with delight?
The aroma?
It seemed… ordinary.
Maybe that wasn't fair. After all, he'd been taste-testing his own failures
for several days straight. At this point, his tongue was numb, his palate
fried, and even something outstanding might have slipped under his radar.
"A 70-point dish…" Xia Yu murmured thoughtfully. Suddenly, he found himself
curious. What was it exactly that made this one different?
Nakiri Senzaemon silently pulled his robe back on, his expression serious.
"Very good."
"Color, aroma, flavor, heat, spice, and finally—crispness from the minced
soy. All six elements blend beautifully. It's the finest Mapo Tofu I've ever
eaten. What's its name?"
The old man's sharp eyes locked on him like a hawk.
"Magic Mapo Tofu," Xia Yu replied modestly. "Honestly, I've only
just started exploring the recipe. I haven't fully grasped the essence of the
dish—there are still many flaws."
"Magic…?"
Nakiri Senzaemon chuckled and nodded. "It does feel like magic."
Then he turned to his granddaughter. "Erina, you should try it too."
"I don't want to!"
God's Tongue refused flatly, her nose in the air like a proud blonde
peacock.
"Don't let your temper rob you of an experience," the Director of Totsuki
Academy warned. "Tasting dishes like this isn't just pleasure—it's growth. It
helps you absorb the culinary craft behind it."
Erina hesitated.
She was stubborn toward everyone, even more so with people her own age—but
when it came to her grandfather, the fearsome food devil of Totsuki, she
couldn't act out too much.
Reluctantly, she picked up a pair of chopsticks.
Watching her struggle to pluck a piece of tofu from the dish, Xia Yu raised
a brow.
"Miss, that's not how you use chopsticks. Should I fetch a spoon instead?"
"Snort!"
She let out a nasal huff of irritation. With that, Erina Nakiri expertly
pinched up a cube of tofu and placed it into her mouth with perfect grace.
Then her eyes went wide.
The explosion hit her instantly—the heat, the spice, the numbing sensation.
She bent over and coughed, her cheeks flushing bright red. Instinctively, she
sat up straighter, but by then the tofu had already slipped down her throat.
Whether she wanted to or not, the God's Tongue had
activated.
Tofu, soybeans, Sichuan peppercorn, chili sauce, sesame oil… even the most
basic ingredients—oil, salt, sugar, five-spice powder—flashed through her mind
one by one like a culinary blueprint. The technique behind each step was laid
bare.
She could see it—feel it.
A young man, standing at a kitchen counter. His brows furrowed. Then a flash
of insight. Then a mistake, corrected with a twist of the hand. Trial and
error. Persistence.
The image was vivid.
Erina shook her head, trying to chase the hallucination away. Her cheeks
burned red, her breath came heavy, as if she'd just finished sprinting a
hundred meters.
"Water—" she croaked.
Still chewing, she reached for the next piece of tofu and issued her demand
without looking up.
Xia Yu, expecting nothing less, simply smiled and stepped back into the
store. He returned with a glass of cool purified water and placed it gently on
the low table.
"It's cold. Enjoy it slowly."
What followed was… surreal.
The Chief of Totsuki Junior High's elite Ten Masters, known for her
merciless tongue and impossible standards, devoured the entire plate of Mapo
Tofu like a starved wolf.
Gulp.
After downing the glass in one go, she shoved it into Xia Yu's hand.
"Another."
"Right away!"
Still smiling, Xia Yu brought her a second.
"Whew—"
She exhaled deeply, the heat finally ebbing away, leaving a buzzing numbness
across her lips and tongue. But the aftertaste lingered, luxurious and
addictive.
Her mouth was ruined for the rest of the day. That much she knew.
This dish was overpowering. Like a flashbang detonating in her mouth. And
yet, despite the violence of its arrival, it had grace and tenderness, too.
The tofu was soft and silky.
The soy minced meat added a delicate crunch, an unexpected contrast.
"Domineering and gentle…" Erina whispered, as though confessing a secret.
She tugged at the collar of her uniform, which suddenly felt too hot and tight,
revealing a sliver of delicate pale skin.
Then she noticed the gaze.
Xia Yu's eyes were fixed on her.
His look was not lewd—just admiring, curious, as though waiting for judgment.
Still, Erina Nakiri was unused to being looked at like this. Especially by
someone her age. It made her uncomfortable… and slightly flustered.
"What?" she snapped.
"How's my cooking?" Xia Yu asked calmly.
Erina opened her mouth to spit out a harsh critique, but then remembered—her
grandfather and Xia Yu's were both watching. She choked slightly, then mumbled:
"…Passed."
"'Passed'?" Xia Yu echoed, raising a brow.
"It's just barely enough!" Erina crossed her arms, pretending not to care.
"Barely in what way?"
"In many ways."
"For example?"
She narrowed her eyes at his persistence.
"First of all, the seasoning on the soy minced meat was just right, but you
overcooked it by two seconds. It lost some of its crispy texture. Then, when
you were stir-frying with garlic, black bean paste, and sauces, you added the
stock too early—the red oil hadn't fully formed yet."
Xia Yu nodded, listening closely, absorbing every word.
"And then," she continued, "when stir-frying the tofu—you're definitely a
novice. It didn't break, but the heat was uneven. Maybe others wouldn't notice,
but I could. My God's Tongue doesn't miss details."
She exhaled sharply, then smirked.
"And you don't even understand thickening. That's basic culinary
technique. You just followed the recipe without grasping its essence. Without
proper thickening, you wasted good tofu and ruined the soup's binding. If your
thickening had been on point…"
She paused, eyes flashing.
"…it would've been a killer dish."