"I am here to see the owner… and to taste the food they say can grant visions of the future."
The moment the words left Lu Rong's lips, Phueak lunged forward, snapping his fan open and shut with such vigor that the resulting gust made Lu Rong flinch.
"Ooh… the scent of a multi-billionaire is practically suffocating the room," Phueak interjected, circling Lu Rong like he was inspecting a dusty relic in a museum. "But my, my… with dark circles like those, looking over your shoulder every second? I'd say your future holds a nasty lawsuit or a cold-blooded betrayal by someone very close to you."
Lu Rong froze. His composed facade flickered for a heartbeat, struck dead-center by the words of this eccentric man in Chinese garb.
"Watch your mouth, Phueak… go fetch some iced chrysanthemum tea for our guest!" Ohm scolded lightly before turning a sweet, practiced smile toward Lu Rong. "Please, sir…" He gestured toward the counter.
Lu Rong sat, eyes scanning them with wary precision. He could feel it now this eccentricity was merely a veil for something far more dangerous than the dozen thugs he had once sent here.
"How can we help you?" Ohm asked casually. But his eyes were like honed blades.
Lu Rong straightened his back, attempting to reclaim his aura of authority.
Foxes
, he thought.
Let's see how clever you really are.
"I have some minor business troubles," Lu Rong replied stiffly, chin tilted with faint arrogance.
Ohm scoffed softly, nodding as if he could see right through him. "Is that so… Because your eyes look like they belong to a man with a troubled soul not a troubled ledger."
Lu Rong's brow furrowed instantly. "How could you possibly know better than a man of my standing?"
Ohm rolled up his sleeves and began to pace around the guest slowly like a tiger sizing up its prey.
"I see a different kind of anxiety… one crouching beneath the shadow of your pride." His eyes locked deep into Lu Rong's without flinching.
Beside them, Phueak snapped his bamboo fan open
Thwack!
as if punctuating the prophecy.
"The smell of fear is crystal clear and screaming."
Lu Rong let out a dry, mocking laugh. "A different anxiety, you say?"
"Tell you what…" Ohm stopped, lips curling into a devious smirk. "I'll prepare a dish perfectly suited to your current state of mind. Shall we?"
"Are we playing mind games now?" Lu Rong challenged.
"Care to find out?" Ohm countered, his tone equally daring.
Lu Rong narrowed his eyes. He suspected a trap laid by Markrim but if he didn't take the bait, he'd never uncover what was happening in the shadows.
"Fine. Show me."
Ohm raised one eyebrow, then strode into the kitchen toward a pot simmering on low heat. The deep, rich aroma of pork skin and chicken feet braised until gelatinous, thick with natural collagen wafted through the air.
He lifted the pot off the flame, carefully straining out herbs and solids until only crystal-clear broth remained. Once cooled to the right temperature, he submerged a silk sachet filled with jasmine buds and added concentrated jasmine essence drop by drop. He poured the mixture into a container and chilled it until it set into a shimmering, translucent jelly.
Lu Rong watched every movement without blinking. What he saw was a chef whose grace and precision made it impossible to look away.
At the prep station, Phueak presented a glass jar of pink torch ginger petals torch ginger flowers pickled in a sharp, tangy brine. Ohm minced them finely, folding them into delicate ground pork. He reached for a dark brown ceramic bottle with gold trim, pouring Shaoxing wine, followed by white pepper, head-harvested sea salt, a pinch of brown sugar, light soy sauce, and sesame oil. With calm, deliberate hands he kneaded the mixture until the vivid pink of the torch ginger marbled beautifully through the meat. He gradually worked in a touch of jasmine-infused liquid for moisture, then diced the now-jellied broth into tiny cubes and gently folded them into the filling.
Next came the dough. Ohm shaped a small volcano of wheat flour on the marble counter and hollowed the center. Warm salted water was poured in his slender fingers coaxing the rough mass into smooth, elastic perfection with rhythmic presses and pushes.
He divided the dough into small portions, rolling and flattening each into paper-thin circles. Phueak handed him a lacquered box with a glass lid pressed, pressing edible flowers arranged inside. With fine-tipped tweezers, Ohm meticulously placed a single pink rose petal at the center, then added tiny forget-me-nots flowers, daisies, violas like a florist composing a masterpiece on silk. He sealed them with another paper-thin sheet of dough and pressed firmly with the rolling pin until the flowers fused within the translucent skin looking like jewels etched into glass.
Lu Rong's eyes didn't leave the station for a single second. He had never witnessed artistry like this. These people possessed culinary knowledge on a level few could match.
Ohm placed the torch ginger flowers-pork filling in the center. His left thumb pressed it gently down while his right hand began the pleating fold by fold ten… fifteen… eighteen precise pleats twisting the final tip into a delicate crown, the embedded flowers perfectly framed beneath.
The tiny xiaolongbao were arranged on parchment in a bamboo steamer. Steam billowed as the water below roared.
Ohm set an hourglass on the shelf. When the last grain fell, he lifted the lid steam rushed up, forcing him to squint. Behind the white curtain sat glistening, translucent buns, golden broth trembling inside, eighteen flawless pleats framing blooming petals.
Using bamboo tongs, he transferred the flower-filled xiaolongbao to a leaf-shaped plate and slid it in front of Lu Rong.
"All done
The Dancing Blossom: Thai-Shanghai Xiaolongbao.
" He gestured with an open hand.
Lu Rong stared in astonishment. "You're a chef of this caliber… and you live here?"
"I've studied culinary arts around the world," Ohm replied. "Since today I stand on your soil, I wanted to marry my expertise in edible flowers with your heritage. A special dish just for you."
Lu Rong lifted his chopsticks with uncharacteristic gentleness and brought the bun to his mouth. The moment the skin met his teeth, jasmine-scented broth exploded across his tongue rich, floral, perfectly balanced against the zesty tang of torch ginger flowers and tender pork. His eyes lit up.
"This… it shouldn't work. Yet it's impossibly harmonious."
Ohm folded his arms, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down toward the man still lost in the taste.
"You didn't come here for business, did you… You came to find out exactly who I am."
Lu Rong froze.
His chopsticks trembled.
Ohm's voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper.
{"hr":true}
Post-chapter author note: The dish was designed by Flowers You Can Eat Thailand.