This brat thinks so highly of himself. He went and challenged someone to a cooking contest, only to end up getting himself stuck here as the loser. If word of this gets out, that old fool Slik will be chasing him around to mock him for years. The boy has absolutely no shame—he’s just embarrassing himself.
Pang Wensheng couldn't help but glare fiercely at Zheng Wenrun. Apprentices were nothing but a debt one had to pay. He didn't speak, instead turning his head to gently rub his thumb, adopting an air of profound, meditative contemplation. Zheng Wenrun didn't dare speak either, standing there stiffly. Ling Miao was the only other person present, her gaze lingering on the pair of master and apprentice.
Suddenly, Pang Wensheng, who had been deep in thought, seemed to return to his senses. He gripped his chopsticks and picked up a piece of pork intestine. It was fragrant and spicy, with the subtle numbing sensation of Sichuan peppercorns, and the texture was bouncy, tender, and incredibly chewy. Although the flavor was somewhat strange, there was no denying that Pang Wensheng was very satisfied with the dish. However, he couldn't even identify the ingredient he was eating. Looking at its appearance, it seemed to be some kind of offal, but he couldn't fathom what part of an animal could have such a firm, bouncy texture.
Chapter 179