Inside the hot pot restaurant, the red chili oil surged in the copper pot like crimson magma, and the rising steam blurred the water droplets condensed on the glass window. Ye Feng picked up a translucent piece of tripe, dipped it into the boiling broth with three quick dips and rises, coated it in minced garlic and sesame oil, and popped it into his mouth. The spicy kick instantly burned its way down his throat into his lungs.
"Hah—" He gulped down a glass of iced plum juice, looking at the composed old man sitting opposite him with a click of his tongue. "When you were practicing Bigu back in the day, Master, you wouldn't even touch Sichuan peppercorns. Who'd have thought you'd be this good with spice now?"
Li Muyang was using the tips of his silver chopsticks to pick up a slice of snowflake beef, gently swishing it in the rolling red soup before putting it into his mouth. After chewing it carefully, he slowly said, "Then you must think there are many things you haven't imagined yet."
Chapter 87