Chapter 56: The Suspect, Zhou

Li Can, as usual, sampled some of the leg meat. There was a faint fishiness, and a deeply hidden bitterness.

He spat.

After spitting out the chewed meat, he examined the surface more closely. The earlier comparison to frog meat was not unfounded, for this meat shared its springy texture and delicate fibers. Such meat, thanks to constant movement, tends to be tender when cooked.

The downside, however, was clear—it was difficult to infuse with flavor. Moreover, the leg was much larger than a frog’s; ordinary marinating would hardly eliminate the bitterness.

“Tonight, I’ll tackle this challenge,” Li Can murmured.

He prepared a large pot, filled it with clear water, and placed several chunks of leg meat in while still cold. He added scallions, ginger, and cooking wine, bringing it to a boil to remove residual slime and begin to rid the meat of its fishiness.

Next came the seasonings. The kitchen trio—scallion, ginger, garlic—were indispensable, chopped into large pieces to prevent them dissolving during prolonged simmering. Then, a handful each of green and red Sichuan peppercorns.

Each type of peppercorn had its purpose: green for numbing heat, perfect for dishes with strong numbness like pepper fish; red for fragrance, suited to spicy dishes like chili chicken. Together, they provided both aroma and numbing heat, an intoxicating combination.

Li Can’s aim, however, was mainly to stimulate the palate and counterbalance the bitterness.

In truth, cooking was much like renovating a house: you used whatever materials were needed, and if you lacked something, you found a substitute—sometimes, the results were even better.

He then readied galangal, angelica root, cardamom, lemongrass, fennel, star anise, bay leaf, cinnamon, fruit of the grass, nutmeg, and long pepper. The common spices needed no explanation—they added aroma, removed unwanted flavors, aided digestion, and increased appetite.

The most special were cardamom, long pepper, lemongrass, and nutmeg, which had sterilizing and digestive properties. When handling monster meat, Li Can always took extra precautions to safeguard his guests’ health.

Lastly, he prepared a generous plate of dried chili peppers.

By now, the water in the pot was boiling, and the surface was covered with froth from impurities. Li Can scooped out the meat, rinsed it thoroughly, and tasted a piece. The fishiness was greatly reduced, but not enough.

He replaced the clean wok and dried it, poured in a small amount of cooking oil—not too hot, only about thirty percent heated—and added a handful of rock sugar to caramelize.

For beginners, this step could be skipped; hot oil mixed with rock sugar was dangerous, and if it touched skin, peeling was the least of your worries. The sugar mustn’t be rushed and required constant stirring to prevent sticking. When the syrup turned a date-red color and began to bubble, he added a bowl of water, brought it to a boil, and set it aside.

The caramel, in truth, reminded him of the sweet figures he’d eaten as a child—the aroma alone evoked nostalgic memories.

He washed the wok, dried it, and added a more generous amount of oil this time—enough to ensure that the ingredients would not seem dry once added.

Sizzle—

With the oil heated to seventy percent, Li Can first added the scallion, ginger, and garlic to release their fragrance, then tossed in bean paste and spicy sauce, frying until the oil turned red. The whole process was kept at medium-low heat to avoid burning the seasonings, which would ruin the dish.

Li Can glanced at the cardboard box in the corner. Inside, the kitten’s pink nose twitched occasionally, but it remained fast asleep, sweet and innocent.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Sister Su Rui to help take you to the pet hospital for a checkup, and buy some milk powder and nutritional supplements. Otherwise, you’ll go hungry,” he thought.

The kitchen was now suffused with aromas. When Li Can judged the time right, he poured in all the remaining spices and stir-fried them. The intoxicating scent, blended from more than a dozen seasonings, hit him like a hurricane—his mouth watered uncontrollably.

He added the dried chili peppers, frying until they released their heat, then poured in the prepared caramel and water, and finally slid all the blanched leg meat into the broth along the edge of the pot.

In went light soy sauce for umami, and salt for flavor.

A pot of spicy leg meat, rich in color, fragrance, and taste, was complete.

“Once the broth boils, turn off the heat and cover the pot. Let it soak until tomorrow’s noon opening; only then will the flavors reach their peak.”

Li Can reluctantly tore his gaze away.

Frankly, the dish could already be considered finished, and when bored, one could substitute the leg meat with chicken feet, wings, drumsticks, beef, or duck heads to create a superb snack for leisure hours—a delightful treat.

But Li Can had no intention of stopping here. To him, this was only half-done; the rest would be completed during business hours with fresh cooking.

“This dish is even more troublesome than the atypical secret sauce. The price can go higher—let’s set it at 388.”

Li Can stretched, weariness washing over him. After adjusting the heat under the broth, he left a note at the cashier’s desk, then carried the kitten upstairs to sleep.

That night, exhaustion truly overtook him.

…

At nine in the morning, Su Rui arrived punctually at the restaurant, lugging a large bag of ingredients.

As soon as she opened the door, the aroma inside nearly overwhelmed her with hunger.

She hurried to the kitchen and lifted the lid. Inside, the food glistened bright red and glossy, bringing joy to her heart.

She considered sneaking a taste, but remembering the price the dish would soon fetch, she resisted the temptation.

“This guy always cooks up delicacies at midnight, as if he’s afraid someone will steal his secrets,” Su Rui muttered, rolling her eyes as she tiptoed upstairs. There, she immediately spotted the cardboard box at Li Can’s bedside.

A faint mewing came from within.

Su Rui carefully picked up the box and glanced at Li Can, sleeping like a log.

“I never imagined you’d help a little animal give birth—hidden depths, indeed,” she whispered. Without delay, knowing the kitten was surely hungry, her maternal instincts surged. She hurried off to the pet hospital with the box.

Fortunately, the little kitten was quite healthy. After some simple treatment from the vet, Su Rui was finally reassured.

“‘Strong Cat’? He actually gave you such an ugly name—makes me want to hit someone,” she grumbled on the way back. But Strong Cat didn’t understand; its tiny paws flailed and it mewed softly.

…

Li Can woke sometime before noon. After washing up and preparing to head downstairs, he was suddenly captivated by a news alert on his phone.

[Breaking News: Early this morning, a van caught fire on Longteng Avenue in Huadian District, resulting in the driver’s death at the scene.

Police, firefighters, and emergency responders arrived immediately and sealed off the area. Sources reveal the deceased was an employee of Pure Dew Water Company, surnamed Li.

Police contacted the family using information from the company, but unexpectedly, at the same time, property management staff from a residential complex reported a female corpse found in the parking lot. After verification, it was confirmed to be Li’s newlywed wife, Wang.

The two incidents led police to realize the gravity of the situation; a special task force was promptly formed for a thorough investigation.

At ten this morning, police traced Li’s colleague, Zhou, who had worked with Li the previous night, but found no trace of Zhou in the van.

At 10:23 a.m., police discovered three bodies at Zhou’s home—all family members.

Currently, Zhou, the initial suspect, has not been located. Relevant departments have issued an online wanted notice; anyone who has seen this person is urged to contact the police immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.]

Li Can’s eyes were unfocused. “Zhou Chang is the suspect?”

(To be continued...)