Zhao Peng tied an apron of imported raw silk around his waist at the left stainless-steel culinary station of Studio 1 in the Jiangcheng Television Broadcasting Center. Under forty overhead spotlights, he waved his gold-plated chopsticks toward the cameras as two million viewers tuned into Jiangcheng Culinary Spotlight.
Across the center of the studio stood a long judging table where ten senior municipal food-safety inspectors sat in neat rows between the two competing kitchens.
Surrounded by three PR handlers and two personal videographers, Zhao Peng gestured toward an ornate, gold-plated tureen carved with imperial dragons, bathed in clouds of dramatic dry ice. Beside the tureen sat six white porcelain bowls, each garnished with shaved black truffles, bird’s nest, and dried abalone ribbons.
“Viewers of Jiangcheng,” Zhao Peng boasted to the cameras, his chest puffed out and his gold-plated chopsticks gleaming under the spotlights. “You are looking at Gourmet-King Monopoly’s crowning achievement: the Imperial Buddha-Jumps-Over-the-Wall Broth! Priced at eighteen hundred and eighty-eight yuan per pot, it incorporates thirty-six rare coastal delicacies, simmered according to an imperial palace recipe for forty-eight hours! It is luxury dining for those who appreciate true refinement!”
On the right station, Grandma Chen and sixty-five-year-old Master Chef Lao Tang worked in quiet, unhurried harmony.
Grandma Chen wore her clean cotton apron, her hands wrapping translucent wonton skins around freshly shelled river shrimp with effortless grace. Beside her, Lao Tang skimmed the surface of a deep stockpot filled with clear, golden broth made from whole free-range hens, aged mountain duck, and pure spring water from Mount Tianhu. There were no dry-ice fog machines or golden dragon carvings, only the fragrant aroma of natural poultry and sweet river shrimp.
Pierre Zhang strutted onto the stage, adjusting his gold silk cravat and brushing non-existent lint from his lapel.
For ten years, Pierre Zhang had made a fortune shaking down small family eateries across the province. He charged struggling restaurant owners two hundred thousand yuan for bogus “culinary certifications” and gave one-star reviews to anyone who refused to pay. He considered himself an untouchable food aristocrat.
“Before this competition begins,” Pierre Zhang announced into his wireless microphone, his accent dripping with European snobbery, “as a certified Three-Star Golden-Fork Inspector, I require an international professional tasting fee. Common street dishes place significant strain on an elite palate. My standard fee is five hundred thousand yuan.”
Pierre Zhang turned toward Lin Mo, who sat calmly in the front row of the audience beside Shen Qiaoqiao and Dr. Gu Qinghe.
“Chairman Lin,” Pierre Zhang smirked, holding out a digital payment card. “Do you have five hundred thousand yuan to compensate an international expert?”
Selling a four-yuan chemical broth packet for eighteen hundred yuan makes loan sharks look like charitable volunteers, Lin Mo thought deadpan. And demanding half a million to taste soup while pretending to be an aristocrat is peak clown behavior. It is time to let the machine speak.
Lin Mo pulled a sleek black reader from his pocket: the System’s [Voice-Broadcast Morality POS Terminal].
“Swipe it yourself, Inspector Zhang,” Lin Mo said calmly.
Pierre Zhang sneered, stepping down to the front row. He swiped his card through the magnetic slot with an arrogant flourish.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEEP!
Blinding crimson strobes flashed from the top of the terminal.
Before Pierre Zhang could retract his hand, the terminal’s built-in amplified speaker boomed across the entire broadcasting studio at one hundred and twenty decibels:
[BRIBED CULINARY FRAUD DETECTED: PIERRE ZHANG (GOODNESS: 11/100)]
[TRANSACTION BLOCKED: ACCEPTED ¥500,000 CASH BRIBE FROM ZHAO PENG ON TUESDAY TO ENDORSE SYNTHETIC CHEMICAL BROTH PACKETS AND FABRICATE FOOD VIOLATIONS AGAINST TAICHU CANTEEN!]
[WARNING: SYSTEM REFUSES TO FACILITATE ILLICIT EXTORTION!]
The entire studio went dead silent.
The television host’s jaw dropped. The cameramen froze in place, zooming their lenses straight into Pierre Zhang’s horrified eyes.
Across the city, the live broadcast chat went wild with hundreds of thousands of laughing and mocking messages:
— “THE POS MACHINE CALLED HIM A FRAUD OUT LOUD!” — “FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND CASH BRIBE CONFIRMED!” — “HE DEMANDED THE EXACT BRIBE AMOUNT ON LIVE TV!” — “DISQUALIFY PIERRE ZHANG! ARREST HIM!”
Pierre Zhang’s face turned from red to an unhealthy ash-gray. He backed away from the terminal as if it were a burning coal, stammering incoherently.
Zhao Peng slammed his hand onto his counter, his face purple with rage. “Turn that machine off! So what if Pierre is a paid consultant for Gourmet-King?! That has nothing to do with the quality of my broth! Look at the ten municipal food inspectors at the table! Let them judge the soup!”
Inspector Chief Wei, a stern fifty-year-old food scientist who had inspected industrial kitchens for twenty-five years, frowned deeply. He looked down at the steaming dragon tureen, then at Grandma Chen’s clear wonton soup.
“A fair test requires scientific verification,” a calm voice called out from the studio entrance.
Dr. Gu Qinghe walked onto the set, wearing a crisp white laboratory coat. Behind him, two hospital lab technicians wheeled in a heavy, stainless-steel diagnostic station: a medical-grade portable mass spectrometer from Taichu Sanctuary Hospital.
Dr. Gu stepped up to the judging table and connected the machine to the studio’s main video display.
“Before our inspectors consume these dishes,” Dr. Gu announced, “we will conduct a real-time chemical composition scan.”
Dr. Gu dipped a sterile glass pipette into Zhao Peng’s eighteen-hundred-and-eighty-eight-yuan Imperial Broth and injected two drops into the mass spectrometer.
HUMMM.
The spectrometer analyzed the sample in five seconds.
A detailed chemical breakdown appeared on the giant television monitor behind the stage:
[CHEMICAL ANALYSIS: GOURMET-KING IMPERIAL BROTH]
[INDUSTRIAL PORK RIND GELATIN: 42.8%]
[HYDROLYZED VEGETABLE PROTEIN (SYNTHETIC UMAMI): 38.4%]
[ARTIFICIAL CARAMEL DYE & CHEMICAL EMULSIFIERS: 16.2%]
[SODIUM NITRITE PRESERVATIVES: 320 PPM (300% OVER LEGAL LIMIT)]
[REAL SEAFOOD OR POULTRY ESSENCE: 0.04%]
[ESTIMATED MANUFACTURING COST PER BUCKET: ¥4.12 RMB]
Dr. Gu adjusted his glasses, facing the television cameras.
“Viewers of Jiangcheng, excessive sodium nitrite forms carcinogenic nitrosamines in the human stomach, causing severe ulcers and long-term tissue degradation,” Dr. Gu explained sternly. “This broth is not imperial heritage. It is a concentrated bucket of chemical gelatin and industrial salts manufactured for four yuan and sold for eighteen hundred.”
The ten food inspectors jumped out of their seats in absolute horror.
“Four yuan a bucket?!” Inspector Chief Wei shouted, slamming his inspection clipboard against the table. “Ninety-nine percent synthetic gelatin and chemical salts?! And the sodium nitrite is three times above the toxic threshold! You are serving industrial poison to our citizens!”
Zhao Peng took a step back, sweating profusely. “That... that is an ancient secret formula! The machine is broken!”
“Now, let us scan Grandma Chen’s wonton broth,” Dr. Gu said calmly.
He took a pipette of the clear golden broth from Lao Tang’s pot and injected it into the scanner.
The screen lit up with bright green text:
[CHEMICAL ANALYSIS: TAICHU SANCTUARY SPRING-WATER BROTH]
[NATURAL FREE-RANGE POULTRY AMINO ACIDS: 100% PURE]
[ORGANIC RIVER-SHRIMP COLLAGEN: 100% PURE]
[SYNTHETIC ADDITIVES, PRESERVATIVES, OR DYES: ZERO]
At that exact second, a soft, radiant chime sounded deep within Lin Mo’s consciousness:
[RANK-2 METROPOLIS TYCOON SYSTEM PERK TRIGGERED!]
[AWAKENING NEW BUFF: CULINARY VITALITY INFUSION!]
[EFFECT: DISHES PREPARED WITH 90+ GOODNESS ABSORB NATURAL EARTH QI FROM TAICHU CBD!]
[BENEFIT: INSTANTLY SOOTHES DIGESTIVE INFLAMMATION, PURGES NITRITE TOXINS, AND RESTORES GASTRIC LINING!]
A delicate, fragrant steam rose from Lao Tang’s stockpot. The studio was filled with the mouth-watering scent of slow-simmered poultry, fresh ginger, and sweet river shrimp.
Grandma Chen placed ten steaming porcelain bowls of shrimp wontons in front of the ten inspectors.
“Please eat while it is hot, officers,” Grandma Chen said with a gentle, motherly smile. “I peeled the shrimp this morning.”
Inspector Chief Wei picked up his soup spoon. For fifteen years, he had suffered from severe chronic gastric ulcers and acid reflux from testing oily, adulterated factory samples. His stomach constantly burned with dull, aching pain.
He blew gently on the broth and took a spoonful.
The rich, natural savory warmth washed across his tongue.
The moment the soup entered his stomach, a gentle, soothing warmth bloomed throughout his digestive tract. The burning ulcer pain that had tormented him for fifteen years dissolved in five seconds! A wave of fresh, revitalizing energy coursed through his veins, making his tired eyes shine with tears of pure relief.
“My stomach...” Chief Wei whispered, his hands trembling. “The burning... it stopped!”
The other nine inspectors gasped. A female inspector beside him clutched her throat, tears rolling down her cheeks. “The constant nausea in my chest... it vanished! It feels like a warm spring bath inside my stomach!”
Each of them took a bite of the plump shrimp wonton.
The wrapper was thin as silk, melting instantly, while the filling burst with crisp, sweet, bouncy shrimp and tender minced pork.
Within three minutes, all ten inspectors had completely cleaned their bowls, drinking every single drop of broth!
Chief Wei stood up and bowed deeply toward Grandma Chen and Lao Tang.
“In twenty-five years of inspecting food across this province,” Chief Wei said, his voice cracking with profound emotion, “I have never tasted broth so pure, so honest, and so healing. This is not street food. This is medicine for the soul.”
Chief Wei turned toward the cameras, his face turning stern.
“The verdict of the Municipal Food Safety Taskforce is unanimous!” Chief Wei declared. “Ten votes to zero in favor of Grandma Chen and Master Chef Lao Tang! Furthermore, by municipal emergency decree, Gourmet-King Monopoly’s chemical Imperial Broth is confiscated, and their central kitchen is placed under criminal investigation!”
The studio audience rose to their feet in thunderous applause.
Beside Lin Mo, Chief Counsel Shen Qiaoqiao held up the signed wager contract toward the television cameras.
“Under the legally binding contest contract signed by Zhao Peng before two million viewers,” Shen Qiaoqiao announced with a razor-sharp smile, “Gourmet-King Monopoly has officially forfeited its eight-story flagship banquet building on Gourmet Night-Market Street and fifty operating franchise licenses to Taichu Group!”
Zhao Peng turned white as a corpse. He clutched his chest, gasping for breath as security officers escorted Pierre Zhang away.
Lin Mo stood up, walking to the stage.
He looked at the television cameras with deadpan calmness.
“Good food should heal people, not poison them for profit,” Lin Mo said. “To celebrate this victory, Taichu Group spends three million yuan tonight to provide five thousand free bowls of vitality wontons to night-shift sanitation workers, bus drivers, and hospital nurses across Jiangcheng.”
Lin Mo tapped his card on the terminal: ¥3,000,000.00.
BEEP.
A crisp, sweet chime echoed inside Lin Mo’s consciousness:
[Ding! Detected spending of ¥3,000,000.00 RMB on Free Pure-Heart Vitality Feasts for 5,000 Night-Shift Workers!]
[Target Integrity Verified: Supporting honest working citizens and promoting public health.]
[Triggered 100x Pure Benevolence System Refund!]
[Received Cash Refund: +¥300,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Funds deposited directly into Host Personal Liquid Vault!]
[Personal Liquid Vault: ¥35,500,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Benevolence Merit Points: +300,000 BMP!]
[Good People Network Expanded: 7,450 verified righteous allies (+40: food inspectors & public health nurses)!]
Three hundred million profit, Lin Mo thought, watching his balance reach thirty-five point five billion. Feeding five thousand night workers hot soup and taking an eight-story banquet building from a corrupt monopolist. Real benevolence is simply the cleanest business model on earth.
Grandma Chen held Little Guo’er’s hand, looking up at Lin Mo with gentle, peaceful eyes.
“Little Mo,” Grandma Chen said softly, smiling as she folded her clean apron. “Seeing those inspectors smile after drinking my soup is better than winning any gold medal. Food is supposed to bring peace to people’s stomachs, not greed.”
“You cooked with real love, Grandma,” Lin Mo replied warmly. “And in this city, pure food will always defeat four-yuan chemical broth.”
Tie Niu stepped up, his phone buzzing with a dispatch notification from Taichu Logistics.
“Chairman, the five thousand bowls are already rolling out in twenty heated delivery vans,” Tie Niu reported. “Night-shift bus drivers, sanitation crews, and emergency nurses across three districts are receiving their hot wontons right now.”
Behind the studio set, Zhao Peng sprinted out the emergency exit into the alley, his eyes wild with crazed, humiliated fury.
He kicked his sports car door and pulled out an encrypted satellite phone.
“Assemble thirty property thugs with sledgehammers and crowbars right now!” Zhao Peng snarled into the phone, spit flying from his lips. “Lin Mo took my banquet hall! Go to Old Lantern Night-Market Street! Smash the clay stoves of every street chef who dared to cheer for Grandma Chen! Break their ovens to dust before dawn!”