The open display of affection between Lucy and Ren elicited different reactions. A man might have felt a pang of envy, but a woman could see so much more.
For the dignified Queen of Hell to behave in such a way, it spoke volus about Ren's place in her heart. For a man to dote on his lover so completely that her entire deanor shifts, transforming her into sothing akin to a pouting schoolgirl—many won yearned for such a connection. Lucy shot Ren a sidelong glance before turning her head away, burying her attention back in her phone as if to ignore him. Ren said nothing, accustod to this daily ritual. It never lasted more than an hour.
Yuuka Kazami watched Ren with a flicker of surprise. She hadn't expected this cunning shopkeeper to possess such a side to his personality. It was… unexpectedly interesting.
However, the towering magician, Clow Reed, was oblivious to these subtle dynamics. His world had narrowed to a single point the mont he took his first bite of the Guo Bao Rou.
As has been said before, the sheer breadth of Chinese cuisine is staggering, so vast that choosing a dish can be an ordeal in itself. Each regional style is etched with the deep weight of inheritance and history. Beyond the renowned Eight Great Cuisines lie countless smaller, yet equally famous, culinary traditions. Among them, Northeastern Cuisine holds a peculiar, beloved status.
To call it a high-end cuisine would be a stretch; it lacks the exquisite presentation of its southern counterparts. Yet, to call it anything less than exceptional would be a lie. Its flavors possess a universal appeal, a masterful balance of sweet, sour, bitter, salty, umami, and spice that few can resist.
When one speaks of Northeastern Cuisine, dishes like chicken stewed with mushrooms or the rustic "Pig-Killing Feast" often co to mind. But when the topic turns to sweet and sour, a singular, golden vision storms the culinary imagination. Its na is Guo Bao Rou.
The na itself is as unassuming as "Twice-Cooked Pork" or "Braised Pork," yet those nas at least hint at their contents. Guo Bao Rou, on the other hand, offers no such clues. To the uninitiated, its na is a complete mystery. It does have a homophonic alternative, written with a character aning "to explode," which perfectly captures the essence of the dish. Just hearing that na, one word becos inescapable: crispy.
This wasn't just a general crispiness. The texture was akin to biting into a perfectly rendered piece of fried pork skin—an exceptionally satisfying crunch. But the dish was far more than a one-note wonder.
Beneath that crackling shell lay pork that was tender, juicy, and satisfyingly chewy. The batter, having been twice-cooked through deep-frying and a final flash-fry in the wok, had taken on a beautiful, almost crystalline glaze. Its golden hue seed to glow with an irresistible sheen.
It was the old, obvious truth: fat is flavor. Oil is fragrance. Guo Bao Rou uses a generous amount of oil, from the initial fry to the final toss in the sauce, making it an indispensable component. The result was an incredible fragrance that coaxed out the deepest, most savory notes of the pork.
Yet, here was the magic of the dish: for all the oil it used, it wasn't the least bit greasy. Any dish that can achieve this feat may be debatable in its greatness, but it will never be bad. Guo Bao Rou was just such a dish.
The ingredients were terrifyingly simple. Aside from the pork loin, the plate held only slivers of green onion, ginger, and carrot, with a few sprigs of cilantro scattered over the top as a final garnish. But the flavor was undeniably, indisputably fragrant.
The first sensation upon entering the mouth was the crisp, sweet-and-sour coating, which imdiately gave way to the rich, savory flavor of the at, all of it enveloped in the comforting aroma of the fried batter. It's also worth noting that a proper Guo Bao Rou carries a subtle hint of pineapple—sotis from a splash of juice, or even better, from pieces of the fruit itself. This whisper of pineapple aroma was the final, master's touch that brought the entire dish to life.
It was, simply put, a perfect piece of at—a generous slice of sweet and sour bliss, golden and crisp on the outside, impossibly tender on the inside. A single bite was enough to awaken every taste bud. Piled onto a bowl of steaming rice, it was a dish that commanded you to eat more. A true "rice thief."
At that mont, Clow Reed was utterly captivated by that first bite. The flavor was a journey of textures: crisp, then yielding, then tender, then soft, then crisp again. It was a fortress of flavor, with tenderness at its core, a soft layer as its defense, and a crispy shell as its impenetrable shield. Each layer built upon the last, deepening the aroma and complexity.
Sweet and sour, crispy yet tender, and overwhelmingly delicious. After spiciness, it was the ultimate companion for rice. As a man with a notorious sweet tooth and a passion for good food, how could Clow Reed possibly resist such a delicacy?
"Shopkeeper Ren," Clow said, his voice full of admiration, "I have a feeling I won't have any of this left to take ho."
"Oh?" Ren smiled. "It seems a good appetite can certainly influence one's plans."
Clow nodded, then glanced at the serene woman sipping her wine nearby. He grinned. "It looks like your two pots of wine are nowhere near enough."
"Do you think this kind of wine could ever be enough?" she replied, her voice calm and asured.
Suddenly, Clow paused, a look of puzzlent on his face. "Shopkeeper Ren, you don't seem to drink alcohol?"
Ren was taken aback. "Why would you think that?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Do I look like one of those legendary n who abstains from all vices?"
Hearing this, the woman's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh? So, Mr. Ren, you smoke?" she asked, a hint of expectation in her tone.
"No, I don't," Ren admitted. "But I do drink. And I suppose I can hold my liquor quite well."
Both Clow and the woman were stunned for a mont. Then, the woman's lips curved into a playful smile. "Mr. Ren, if you're a good drinker, does that an you drink often?"
Ren thought for a mont. "I don't think I've had a proper drink in a long ti. It was just a few bottles with a couple of friends a while back."
"This peach blossom wine?" she pressed.
"No, another kind. I have more than one type of wine here, you know. All sorts, really. The one we had that day was sothing of a dicinal wine, I suppose."
The woman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "dicinal wine?" she asked. "Aren't those usually quite harsh? And I rember them being incredibly strong."
"I thought it was fine, actually," Ren said with a casual shrug.
From the side, Lucy muttered under her breath, just loud enough to be heard, "Didn't you drink it all in one gulp..."
The woman's expression faltered, her mouth twitching slightly as she looked at the seemingly gentle man before her. My, my. This one was hiding his depths well.
Just as she was about to say sothing more, she heard Ren's soft voice cut through the air. "This Boiled Cabbage in Supre Broth won't taste as good if it gets cold."
"Oh... is that so..."
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