Chapter Fifty-Eight: Lethal Dose?

Because everyone knew of Li Can’s “heroic deeds,” none of the customers waiting in line at the restaurant dared to complain about the food anymore. All chose to wait quietly. Who would dare speak up? This was a man who’d fearlessly confronted even a murderer!

As for those who had loudly threatened to leave the queue earlier, they now found themselves in an awkward predicament. If they continued to wait in line, their original spots were already taken; if they left, it felt wasteful after coming all this way. Torn and frustrated, they could only slink to the very end of the line, casting resentful glances at the young man with dreadlocks, wishing they could drown him with their glares.

The dreadlocked youth didn’t dare utter a word. He even considered leaving, but the words the policewoman had said before leaving kept echoing in his mind, as if missing today would mean missing out on a fortune. After a moment’s silence, he ignored the stares around him, clutching two bottles of milk, standing at the very end of the line, pretending to look around nonchalantly.

Truthfully, he was a genuine food enthusiast; otherwise, he wouldn’t have come so well prepared.

By rights, with Li Can’s culinary skills, it was only a matter of time before he received honors for his cuisine—at least, if given enough time. What Su Rui hadn’t expected, though, was that his first honor would come so quickly, and would have nothing to do with food at all!

But that didn’t matter. Taking advantage of a rare lull, she didn’t bother asking Li Can’s permission and simply hung the “Good Citizen Award” in the most conspicuous spot in the dining room, as if afraid people might miss it. Whatever the award, if it drew attention, it was a good award!

Afterward, she went to the cashier’s counter, fed the goat’s milk she’d prepared earlier to Brave Cat, and only then announced calmly, “Open for business!”

...

“Soup, 27 orders; meat, 25 orders.” Seeing the sudden pile of sticky notes by the table, Li Can was a little surprised. He’d heard Su Rui mention that business was booming the night before, but hadn’t realized to what extent.

Now he understood.

“The first day, we made over five thousand; the second day, about twelve thousand; yesterday, nearly thirty thousand; and today... these sticky notes are just the first round of orders and we’ve already passed ten thousand—and that’s just the beginning.”

Li Can clicked his tongue. Even he had vastly underestimated the popularity of the dishes. Barring any mishaps, today’s revenue would easily break the hundred-thousand mark!

“Unfortunately, the restaurant is reaching its limit. If we want to go further, we’ll have to expand the dining area.”

Li Can kept this firmly in mind. Not daring to waste a second, he threw himself into the work.

—

The table was piled with plates, each neatly lined with slices of meat, arranged with the precision of fallen dominoes—a vision to delight any perfectionist.

This was, of course, last night’s marinated leg meat.

After hours of soaking, the meat’s original pale color had transformed into a glossy, appetizing reddish-brown. Li Can had no time to admire it. He set down two large iron basins filled with oil on the table.

One basin held amber-colored oil with a bit of sediment at the bottom—this was the scallion oil he’d made a couple of days ago. The other contained chili oil, full of chili flakes and white sesame seeds.

Chili oil is commonly used for cold dishes or dipping sauces and is very simple to make. The only difference here was that the boiling oil for this chili oil wasn’t ordinary cooking oil, but rendered from the membrane of the tentacled beast. It had a unique, refreshing aroma, didn’t solidify like lard, and produced an exceptionally beautiful, ruby-red chili oil.

Li Can then produced several large bags of cleaned green and red bird’s eye chilies, young ginger, garlic, celery, and scallions, chopping each finely and neatly piling them into a clean iron basin.

Although the marinated leg meat looked fine as it was, it would be too monotonous in both color and flavor if served plain. Li Can’s task was to enrich both the appearance and the taste.

The green and red chilies had striking colors and a powerful visual punch. The green ones were spicy and fresh, the red ones fragrant and hot—the perfect complement to each other. Young ginger, also called tender ginger, was crisp and delicately spicy, bridging the flavor gap between the chilies and the chili oil.

Simply put, the ginger offered the mildest heat, followed by the moderately spicy chili oil, and finally the intensely hot green and red chilies—a progression like a volcanic eruption.

Garlic, celery, and scallions added three layers of aroma, balancing the heat and deepening the flavor experience.

Once everything was ready, Li Can lit the stove, dried the wok, and poured in a large bowl of scallion oil to heat. When it started to smoke heavily, he turned off the flame.

Normally, oil at 30–40% heat (around 150°C) is called warm oil; 50–60% (about 180°C) is moderately hot, showing light smoke—good for shallow frying. Oil at 70–80% (about 200°C) is hot oil, somewhat dangerous and ideal for deep frying. Oil at 90–100%—blazing oil—reaches a terrifying 300°C, nearly at its flash point and ready to combust at any moment.

The oil before him now was blazing oil!

—

Li Can placed the basin of chopped ingredients on the stove, picked up the dry wok ladle, scooped up the scorching oil, and with a gentle flick, the blazing oil rained down like celestial flowers, sizzling and releasing a heady fragrance.

A second ladleful, a third, a fourth...

When all the boiling oil had been poured in, just covering the ingredients, Li Can continued with the seasoning: adding sugar and aged vinegar to balance the heat, steamed fish soy sauce and Sichuan pepper oil for complex flavor, light soy for savory depth, and finally, the prepared chili oil to bridge the gap between the ginger and chili heat.

After thoroughly mixing, a vibrant, jewel-toned, spicy, and aromatic super dipping sauce was complete.

This sauce was truly universal: perfect for cold eggplant, cucumber, noodles, or even cold carp, pork, and more. It could replace every step, ingredient, and seasoning in any such dish.

Satisfied, Li Can nodded. He poured the sauce evenly over each plate of leg meat. Thus, the “Volcano Eternal Meat,” a dish that had taken all night to prepare, was finally and entirely complete!

...

Out in the front of the house, Su Rui—already overwhelmed by the impatient customers—heard Li Can’s signal that the dishes were ready. She rushed into the kitchen, but when she saw the mountain of plates and the pervasive, spicy aroma, her expression changed several times.

“This... won’t kill someone, will it?”

“It won’t,” Li Can replied, a mischievous smile curling on his lips. “At most... maybe... some screaming.”