Julian Slowik (Part 2)

Later, after Chen Xiao finished the last dish, he set down his fork, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the empty plate for five seconds.

Then he spoke.

"Delicious."

Julian was wiping down a knife in the kitchen without looking up.

"But," Chen Xiao said, "there wasn't enough."

Julian's hand paused.

"Look," Chen Xiao said, counting on his fingers, "the appetizer, one bite. Soup, three bites. Main course, five bites. Dessert, two bites. Altogether, not even twenty bites. Five hundred dollars. That's twenty-five dollars a bite."

He patted his stomach.

"I'm not full."

Julian looked up at him expressionlessly.

"My restaurant isn't a place for you to fill your stomach."

"Then what kind of place is it?"

"A place for you to learn what delicious food is."

Chen Xiao thought about it and felt that the logic seemed perfectly sound.

But he still stood up.

"Fine, then I'll go out and get a couple of cheeseburgers."

He turned and headed for the door.

"Stop."

Chen Xiao turned back.

Julian stood in the kitchen, still holding the knife, his expression unchanged. But Chen Xiao noticed that the knuckles gripping the knife had gone slightly white.

"Say that again."

"Cheeseburgers?" Chen Xiao tilted his head. "You know, two buns, a beef patty, a slice of cheese, some pickles, onions, ketchup—"

"I know what a cheeseburger is."

Julian's voice was calm.

But it was the kind of calm that came before a volcanic eruption.

"You just finished my tasting menu, and then you told me you were going out for cheeseburgers?"

"I'm not full."

"That isn't the point."

"Then what is?"

Julian stared at him for three seconds.

"The point is," he said, enunciating every word, "you don't respect my food."

Chen Xiao froze for a moment, then laughed.

"Julian," he said, calling him by name for the first time, "if I really didn't respect your food, I wouldn't have come here six times."

Julian said nothing.

"Every dish you make, I finish completely. The plates don't even need washing." Chen Xiao pointed at the empty plate before him. It was so clean it looked licked spotless. "Is that disrespect?"

Julian's gaze moved from Chen Xiao's face to the plate, then back again.

Silence.

A long silence.

Then Julian turned around, opened the refrigerator, and took out a piece of beef.

"Sit back down."

"Hm?"

"Sit back down. I'll make it for you."

Chen Xiao raised an eyebrow and obediently returned to his corner seat.

Julian made the burger exactly the way he made his tasting menu.

The same focus, the same precision, the same—Chen Xiao could not find a better word—obsession.

He shaped the beef into a patty, its thickness precise to the millimeter. He cut the bun open and toasted it in a skillet until lightly charred. He placed the cheese on the patty and melted it with steam. He sliced the pickles thin and arranged them neatly.

When he assembled it at last, his movements were slow, as though he were constructing a house.

The burger was placed on a white ceramic plate and pushed in front of Chen Xiao.

There were no fries. No sides. Just the burger.

Chen Xiao lowered his gaze to it.

It looked like an ordinary cheeseburger.

But he knew it absolutely was not.

He picked it up and took a bite.

The bun was crisp, the beef tender and juicy, the cheese rich, while the tang of the pickles cut through the grease at exactly the right moment. Every flavor exploded in his mouth, perfect as a symphony—just like those refined dishes from before, except this time, the orchestra had been replaced by a rock band.

As Chen Xiao chewed, he suddenly felt his eyes grow warm.

He could not explain why.

Maybe it was just too delicious.

Or maybe it was because he knew that the man standing in the kitchen, expressionless and sharper-tongued than the knife in his hand, had personally made him a burger over the accusation that he had "disrespected food."

He swallowed, then took another bite.

A third bite.

A fourth.

The burger was gone.

Chen Xiao set down the last crumbs in his hand, looked at the empty plate, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he spoke very softly.

"Thank you, Julian."

Julian was wiping his knife and did not even look up.

"Cut the crap. If you dare say you aren't full next time, don't come back."

Chen Xiao smiled.

He took out his wallet and placed five hundred dollars on the table—the standard meal price—along with a twenty-dollar bill.

"This twenty is for the burger."

Julian glanced at the twenty-dollar bill.

"The burger isn't sold separately."

"Will you take it?"

Julian was silent for two seconds, then reached out and took the twenty.

Chen Xiao stood up, walked to the door, then looked back.

Julian had already cleaned the burger station and begun slicing carrots for the next day.

A flash of knife light, and the carrot slices were as thin as cicada wings.

After that, Chen Xiao visited Hawthorne more and more often.

Two or three times a week. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Daniel. Julian never exchanged pleasantries with him, but whenever Chen Xiao arrived, the corner table was always empty—even when the restaurant was fully booked.

Chen Xiao asked once, "Did you save it for me on purpose?"

Julian said, "It has the worst feng shui. No one wants to sit there."

Chen Xiao looked at the spot—it faced the kitchen directly, allowing him to see Julian's every movement as he cooked. It was the best seat in the house.

He smiled but did not call him out on it.

After Daniel sat down, he looked around and said quietly, "Chief, there are energy fluctuations here."

"What kind of fluctuations?"

"Weak, but abnormal. Like there's some kind of... ritualistic quality?"

Chen Xiao glanced at Julian in the kitchen—he was slicing carrots with an exceptionally sharp knife, every slice thin enough to see through and arranged as neatly as troops on parade.

"That's obsession," Chen Xiao said. "Not magic."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but eat first."

Daniel ate that meal in silence. When he finished, he set down his fork, looked toward Julian, and said seriously, "It would be a terrible waste if this man didn't become a sorcerer."

Before Chen Xiao could speak, a voice came from the kitchen.

"It wouldn't."

Both of them froze at once.

Julian did not look up. His knife was still moving, its rhythm unchanged.

"My heart is only in the kitchen," he said.

Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Chen Xiao looked at him, his gaze clearly saying: What did I tell you?

The silence lasted three seconds.

"How did you know we were talking about you?" Daniel finally asked.

Julian stopped his knife and looked up, his gaze moving from Daniel's face to Chen Xiao's.

"I don't know about the two of you," he said, "but he—"

He pointed at Chen Xiao.

"Isn't an ordinary person."

Chen Xiao raised an eyebrow.

Daniel looked at Chen Xiao.

Julian had already lowered his head and resumed chopping vegetables.

"You don't care?" Chen Xiao asked.

"I don't care."

"What if I'm a bad guy?"

"Bad guys need to eat too."

"..."

"As long as you remember to pay."

Chen Xiao paused, then burst out laughing.

He turned to Daniel.

Daniel said expressionlessly, "Chief, he's right."

"Shut up."

Later, Chen Xiao brought Wong there once. Wong remained silent for a long time after finishing his meal, then asked, "Does this man take apprentices?"

"No."

"Then can he teach me to cook?"

"No."

"Then can I work here? I don't need money."

Julian finally looked up at him. "Have you ever cut onions?"

"No."

"Then if you come here, all you can do is cut onions."

"That's fine."

"Tuesday afternoons. Two hours. No pay."

Wong nodded, his expression as solemn as though he had accepted a sacred mission.

Chen Xiao stared from the side. "You're letting a Kamar-Taj sorcerer cut onions in your kitchen?"

Julian did not look up. "He's willing."

Wong nodded as well. "I'm willing."

Chen Xiao opened his mouth, but in the end, he could not say anything.

After that, Wong really did come every Tuesday afternoon to cut onions. In three months, he ruined two knives and wasted thirty pounds of onions. Julian never praised him, but he never drove him away either.

Once, Chen Xiao asked Wong, "What exactly are you after?"

Wong said, "His knife skills are more worth learning than any spell in Kamar-Taj."

Chen Xiao thought about it and felt that Wong's words seemed to make a little sense—and no sense at all.

As time passed, a strange understanding formed between Chen Xiao and Julian.

They only ever talked about three things: dishes, ingredients, and how to eat them.

Once, Chen Xiao asked, "Why did you come to New York?"

Julian said, "Because Paris doesn't have good beef."

Chen Xiao knew that was not the truth, but he did not press him.

Once, Julian asked, "What exactly do you do?"

Chen Xiao said, "I came to New York to make friends."

Julian looked at him.

"Have you made any?"

"I'm working on it."

Julian did not respond and lowered his head to continue cutting vegetables.

Chen Xiao thought the carrot he was slicing seemed just a tiny bit thinner than before.

He did not know whether it was just his imagination.