Chapter 699

Chapter 699:

Ashton, unfazed by Malcom’s taunts, picked up his spoon and tasted the bean curd.

But almost instantly, his brow creased. When he raised his eyes, his gaze on Malcom was sharp, scrutinizing. Seeing Ashton’s reaction, Malcom’s smile faltered. “What? Why the long face? Something wrong with my dish?”

Ashton let out a sigh that hung heavy in the quiet room. “The problem is glaring. No wonder your restaurant’s always empty. How can you expect to draw a crowd when the owner himself can’t get a basic dish right?”

Malcom’s face reddened, the air around him thickening with fury. His teeth ground together as he retorted, “I dare you to say that again! How could there be anything wrong with my cooking?”

“Then why don’t you try it for yourself?” Ashton offered him another spoon, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

Malcom, unable to resist the urge to defend his honor, took the spoon, the weight of the moment hanging heavy. As he tasted his own creation, Ashton wasted no time in his critique.

“First off, your bean curd is overcooked. You didn’t manage the heat right when you tossed it in the oil, so the texture’s too firm, and it missed soaking up the flavor. Secondly, you went overboard with the sugar when this dish needs a spicy kick. All that sweetness buried the original taste. I could point out a few more flaws, but when the basics are this far off, what’s the use? This dish is a flop, plain and simple.”

Each word felt like a slap, and Malcom’s face darkened, the flush of his anger clashing with his embarrassment. “That’s just hot air! What gives you the right to criticize me?” Malcom spat, his voice strained.

Unwilling to be outdone, Malcom scooped up a piece of bean curd from Ashton’s dish and took a bite, determined to find some flaw.

But as the flavors hit his tongue, his expression shifted—what had been a sneer turned to surprise.

M𝒪rє 𝒸ontєnt 𝓃𝒾𝓌: g𝒶l𝑛ovєls.𝓬○𝓶

He had expected to tear the dish apart, to prove Ashton wrong. But instead, all he could do was savor the bold, mouthwatering blend of spice and savory richness that danced across his palate. It was like a firework show of flavor, each bite a burst of perfection.

His hand trembled, his pride faltering as he devoured the entire plate in a frenzy, unable to stop himself. When he looked up, Ashton was grinning, his eyes filled with silent satisfaction.

“Well? Any feedback?”

The empty plate before Malcom was all the answer Ashton needed, but Malcom, his pride refusing to surrender, forced a chuckle.

“Maybe this is just your specialty,” he replied with a reluctant shrug. “If you want to truly impress me, try recreating our restaurant’s signature dish—Meat Eater Casserole. That recipe was what made this place popular. If you can replicate it, I’ll partner with you without question.”

Ashton’s brow furrowed. He had never heard of the dish, but the challenge was enough to ignite his curiosity.

Before he could respond, the door swung open with a dramatic creak, and two figures stepped into the restaurant.

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