Why had Shen Bing refused to go home to cook? Naturally, it was because there were only a handful of people at home. Even if the aroma stirred their appetites, it would not generate much qi.
Things were different at the restaurant. The steady stream of people coming and going could provide Shen Bing with an endless supply of mouth- and nose-desire qi. Perhaps they could even contribute a little to the "eyes" category.
In fact, this had already been proven. Right now, for instance, Fang Yuanming and the others desperately wanted to go in and see what was happening, but could not. That had also contributed to the increase in the "eyes" category.
It took Shen Bing nearly forty minutes to finish preparing the meal. Looking at the six dishes before him, along with a pot of rice that resembled individual purple agates, even someone suffering from anorexia would have developed a hearty appetite.
There was actually a great deal to the art of cooking. Although most people ate for flavor and texture, that merely meant they placed less emphasis on the effects of shape and color.
To give a simple example, if steamed buns were made to look like feces in both shape and color, who could stomach them? Conversely, presenting dishes in ways that stimulated people's appetites would produce an entirely different effect.
"Guys, help me carry these dishes out," Shen Bing said cheerfully to the server who had been waiting nearby.
Suddenly, he added, "And no sneaking a taste!"
The server was a young man in his twenties. Hearing Shen Bing's words, he gave an embarrassed smile. He had indeed been thinking about doing just that. Who could blame him when Shen Bing's performance had been so astounding? Not tasting it would practically be letting himself