The first shop by the factory gate had a stove built out front, though it was unclear what was cooking. A small square table stood before the door, apparently for selling braised meat.

’They’re making a bit of a mishmash of things.’

He Zhiyuan had been to many places, with his travels taking him all over Sichuan.

He had seen too many restaurants like this, set up at the gates of large factories, and it was hard for him to get excited.

Usually, the owners of such places had some sort of connection to the factory’s management, which was how they secured such a prime location.

As for the taste of the food... it generally left much to be desired.

In the past, he wouldn’t even have stepped foot inside a restaurant like this.

But today, Huang Chen had brought him here, so he decided to hold his tongue for now.

’When your good buddy introduces a restaurant to you like it’s some hidden gem, you have to at least try the food before you tear it down,’ he thought. ’Otherwise, it just seems unprofessional.’

Their timing was perfect. They had arrived just as the factory was letting out, and a stream of textile workers on bicycles poured out of the main gate, forcing the three of them to quickly move aside.

By the time they pushed their own bikes to the restaurant’s entrance, the braised meat stall out front was already surrounded by workers. Many others were parking their bikes at the entrance and heading inside.

"Business is this good?" Seeing this, He Zhiyuan was rather surprised. He parked his bike, pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose, and squeezed his way toward the crowd around the braised meat stall.

"Chief Editor He..." Li hesitated, wondering if he should follow, but Huang Chen held him back with a smile. "Don’t worry about him. He just loves watching people cook. Let’s go grab a table first. If we’re late, we’ll have to wait."

"Alright," Li agreed readily and followed Huang Chen into the shop.

"Boss, one pig’s ear!"

"A third of a pound of pork jowl!"

"I’ll take a pig’s snout, and another third-pound of pork jowl!"

The customers shouted their orders, as if afraid someone would get ahead of them. This made He Zhiyuan all the more curious about what was so captivating about this braised pig head.

He Zhiyuan sidestepped to let a customer with their braised meat pass, then slipped through the gap to reach the front of the square table.

On the table, a winnowing basket was piled high with pig ears, snouts, and jowl meat cut into long strips. Their color was a brilliant, glistening red, shimmering with a moist sheen. The overflowing pile made for a powerful visual impact.

’That caramelized glaze is too enticing,’ he thought. ’Based on my experience, there’s no way this braised meat is bad!’

Moreover, the owner was quite clever, using a relatively small basket to make the braised meat look completely full and overflowing.

As the old saying goes, merchandise sells best in a pile. The more piled-up the goods, the more willing customers are to buy, giving the impression of both abundance and freshness.

If you were to spread it all out in a large basket, you wouldn’t get that same feeling.

Of course, it was still a lot of meat—at least six or seven pig heads, weighing dozens of pounds. If they could sell all of it during the post-work rush, their business was definitely booming.

The pork jowl sold for two-and-a-half yuan per pound, while the ears and snouts sold for three yuan. The prices weren’t cheap; several famous braised meat shops in Rongcheng sold theirs for about the same.

To be selling at this price in a small town in Jiazhou, and still have customers swarming to buy it, spoke volumes.

He Zhiyuan watched from the side for a while, his mouth falling open in astonishment.

The Knife Skills of the chef cutting the meat were incredibly precise. A customer would name a weight, and with a single cut, he would produce a piece of that exact weight, without the slightest deviation.

His hands were practically a scale.

Then he watched him slice the pig ears. The slicing knife in his hand went SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, and the slices fluttered down, so thin they were translucent, each one perfectly uniform in thickness.

Fast, precise, and steady!

Those Knife Skills could rival the best prep cook in the kitchens of the Rongcheng Restaurant.

He packed the sliced ears in a wax paper bag and handed it to the customer. In the blink of an eye, he was already cutting pork jowl for the next person.

He was fast, and his technique was a pleasure to watch. The waiting customers didn’t seem bored at all; they watched with great interest, some even discussing when he might finally misjudge a cut.

’I can’t believe a small restaurant like this has such a skilled cold-dish chef!’ He Zhiyuan thought.

However, his gaze was soon drawn to the large stove behind the chef. A big pot on it was simmering what must be beef broth. The aroma, carried on the steam, drifted over. He took a careful sniff—it was a rich, meaty fragrance, with no hint of gaminess at all.

There were a few lines of text written on the front of the stove.

"Kneeling Beef? What an interesting name for a dish..." He Zhiyuan read on, his interest growing.

The stove itself served as a sign. It not only displayed the dish’s name but also gave a brief account of its origins.

The calligraphy was good, and the story was well-written.

According to this, Kneeling Beef could be considered a famous local dish of Suji.

Slaughter Ox Zhou Village... The last time he was in Suji, Huang Chen had mentioned this village to him. A lot of the beef in the Jiazhou Region was butchered here before being transported to the markets. Its history of cattle slaughtering was long.

As the deputy chief editor of a food magazine, he was different from the average gourmand. He didn’t just love to eat; he loved to unearth the stories behind the dishes.

And this little restaurant told the story of Kneeling Beef exceptionally well.

It had an origin story, historical roots, and a legacy of development.

In just over a hundred words, it managed to explain the past and present of the dish with perfect clarity.

Clear beef broth, medicinal herbs, effective for expelling cold and dampness, and a fresh, delicious soup.

’In that case, this Kneeling Beef really is something special!’

He Zhiyuan stopped gawking at the braised meat stall. With a few cries of "excuse me," he squeezed out of the crowd, only to see Huang Chen and Li already seated inside, waving at him.

He raised a hand to show he’d seen them but didn’t rush to their table. Instead, he made his way over to the large pot.

The pot was about half-full of broth. The liquid was clear with a shimmering layer of oil on top. You could see cracked beef bones at the bottom, and it was all kept at a gentle simmer over a low fire.

Standing in front of the pot was a middle-aged woman with a smile on her face. She looked quite amiable. In one hand, she held a bamboo strainer, which she was filling with cabbage, beef intestines, beef tendon, and tripe.

Just before it was ready, she grabbed six paper-thin slices of beef sirloin and tossed them into the strainer. She blanched them for a few seconds until the meat turned from red to pink, then immediately lifted the strainer from the pot. She emptied its contents into an earthenware bowl, ladled a scoop of rich broth over it, and just like that, a serving of Kneeling Beef was ready.

The dish was prepared quickly, and the bowl was generously filled with meat: offal, tendon, and beef slices.

Zhao Tieying had noticed He Zhiyuan a while ago. He was a bit chubby, wore glasses, and was standing by the stove, eyes darting everywhere as he stared at her making the Kneeling Beef. She felt a little wary, but kept a smile on her face. "If you’re here to eat, please have a seat inside. There are still two empty tables."

"No rush, no rush." He Zhiyuan waved his hand and asked with a smile, "Ma’am, are you the one who makes this Kneeling Beef? The broth smells so fragrant! Could you possibly tell me what spices and herbs you put in it? Has the soup really been simmering for a full eight hours? And are there any special techniques you use when you blanch the ingredients?"

The smile vanished from Zhao Tieying’s face. Her eyes grew sharp as she stared at him and said coldly, "You, four-eyes! Which restaurant sent you to spy on us?"

"I knew you were up to no good the moment I saw you! It’s one thing to stare at me making Kneeling Beef, but then you have the nerve to ask all these questions!"

"Peeking at the stove to see the ingredients—you’re trying to steal the oil and the fire!"

"What? Are you trying to steal my recipe?!"

"Believe it or not, I’ll whack you with this thing!"

Seeing Zhao Tieying raise the bamboo strainer, He Zhiyuan stumbled back two steps in fright, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose.

’This woman is fierce!’

Outside, Zhou Miao, who was cutting the braised meat, heard the commotion and turned his head. He fixed his gaze on He Zhiyuan, his grip on the kitchen knife tightening slightly.

The other customers all turned to look. ’What’s going on?’

"Comrade, you’ve misunderstood!" He Zhiyuan waved his hands frantically. He hadn’t expected to cause this kind of misunderstanding.

"Comrade Zhao Tieying, this is my friend." Seeing the situation, Huang Chen quickly stood up and walked over, placing a hand on He Zhiyuan’s shoulder. He introduced him with a smile, "This is Comrade He Zhiyuan, the deputy chief editor of *Sichuan Cuisine* magazine. He’s not a Chef, and he’s not here to steal any recipes. He’s a writer."

Hearing this, Zhao Tieying quickly put the bamboo strainer back in the soup pot and laughed awkwardly. "Oh, so you’re a friend of Mayor Huang’s. Then it was my mistake. I’m sorry about that, Comrade."

’Mayor Huang said yesterday he was treating a friend here and had ordered some dishes. And today, I almost beat up his friend for being a recipe thief. How embarrassing.’

’A deputy chief editor of some magazine, a cultured man who writes articles... He isn’t going to go home and write articles cursing me out every day, is he?’

Zhou Miao silently turned back and resumed cutting the pork jowl.

"It’s alright, it’s alright. I was too abrupt. I should have introduced myself first." He Zhiyuan pushed up his glasses, not at all angry.

This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered a situation like this. He’d even been chased three blocks by a chef wielding a cleaver once. Being threatened with a bamboo strainer was nothing.

After all, in the culinary world, his line of questioning had a tendency to invite a beating. He was used to it.

Chefs had their own schools of training and secret recipes; they couldn’t be expected to share everything.

But as the deputy chief editor of a food magazine, he loved asking the very questions that readers wanted to know.

To hell with the consequences, he’d ask first and worry later.

Perhaps some chefs would be magnanimous and willing to share, which would be a contribution to the legacy of Sichuan Cuisine.

Getting cursed out a bit didn’t mean a damn thing to him personally.

The readers of *Sichuan Cuisine* magazine weren’t just cooking enthusiasts and housewives; many were fellow chefs who wanted to learn new knowledge and techniques from their outstanding peers.

Their founding mission was to explore Sichuan’s culinary culture, delve deep into cooking theory, exchange techniques for Sichuan Cuisine, introduce delicacies from all over Sichuan, and share industry news.

If all they did was introduce tasty dishes without discussing their origins or preparation methods, it would always feel like something was missing.

"Comrade Zhao, just serve us the dishes I ordered yesterday," Huang Chen said, pulling He Zhiyuan back to their seat, grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you laughing at? Don’t I have any face to lose?" He Zhiyuan sat down, unable to suppress a laugh himself.

Huang Chen laughed. "You were too hasty. If you have questions, wait until you’ve eaten your fill. I’ll take you over, introduce you properly, and then you can ask. Even if she doesn’t want to answer, she probably won’t resort to violence."

"You don’t get it. That Kneeling Beef looked truly amazing. I couldn’t stop myself from asking." He Zhiyuan’s eyes roamed around the restaurant.

The restaurant was quite spacious inside. Even with nineteen tables, it didn’t feel crowded. By now, every table was occupied, and there were people outside queuing up for a seat. For a small town, this level of business was excellent.

The place was furnished with traditional eight-immortal tables and long benches. The floor was a simple layer of cement mortar. While you couldn’t call it decorated, the tables and benches were wiped spotless without a trace of grease. It looked clean and tidy, better than ninety-nine percent of small-town eateries.

"What did you order?" He Zhiyuan’s gaze fell on the menu on the wall. It was quite simple.

"Kneeling Beef, Twice-Cooked Pork, minced beef with two kinds of peppers, braised pig ear, and cold dressed chicken. Four dishes and a soup," Huang Chen said.

"That’s too much for three people. From what I saw, their portions are huge," He Zhiyuan said, looking away from the menu and shaking his head.

"If we can’t finish, we can pack up the cold dishes. Since we’re here, I wanted you to try a few more things," Huang Chen said with a smile as he opened the bottle of liquor.

As they were speaking, the Kneeling Beef was served.

It came with three dry-dip bowls, three small soup bowls, and a side dish of pickled radish.

"The Kneeling Beef is here! I’ll try the soup first!" He Zhiyuan immediately sat up straight, picked up his spoon, and ladled some soup for himself.

Of all the things on the menu, this Kneeling Beef was what interested him the most!

"*Sichuan Cuisine* magazine?" In the kitchen, Zhou Yan watched He Zhiyuan sipping soup from his bowl, lost in thought.

’If we could get featured in the magazine, it would probably do wonders for the restaurant’s reputation, right?’

’In this day and age, magazines are a very influential medium!’