Jiang Changping, seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat and took a sip of tea, trying to use its fragrance to cover the storm raging inside him.
Jiang Yanchu was nowhere near as composed as his father. He practically wanted to glue his eyes to Jiang Xun, astonished, delighted, and incredulous, like an archaeological team that had dug up a living dinosaur fossil in their own backyard.
Jiang Xun ignored both burning gazes, his chopsticks flying.
He helped himself to half the stir-fried shrimp and ladled braised beef brisket, sauce and all, over his rice. He had not intended to touch the garlic broccoli, but Jiang Yanchu eagerly nudged the plate toward him, so he reluctantly took two helpings with his chopsticks.
Jiang Changping finally recovered from his shock. He gave a light cough and was about to speak when Jiang Xun served himself another bowl of rice.
He swallowed the words right back down.
Shen Yuxing quietly ate his rice, his eyes moving between Jiang Xun and the table full of dishes, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
The sweet-and-sour ribs were still sizzling and bubbling when they reached the table. The sauce was thick and glossy red, each piece coated in a glistening caramel glaze, its sweet-and-sour, caramelized aroma wafting straight into their noses.
Old Li had brought out his best skills for this dish, timing the cooking down to the second. Just before taking it off the heat, he had drizzled a circle of aromatic vinegar around the edge of the wok. With a sizzle, the soul of the entire dish had been elevated on the spot.
Jiang Xun picked up a piece, blew on it twice, and popped it into his mouth. The instant he bit down, juices burst across his tongue,