Chapter Seventy-Four: Let Us Witness the Miracle Together (Part 2)

First, Wang Dongliang and the others were served the appetizers: these are usually intended to stimulate the appetite, crafted from the freshest seasonal ingredients. The selection follows the principle of “low-key luxury”—just one or two rare ingredients are included to highlight the sense of “hidden treasures beneath humble attire” that defines the entire kaiseki meal. The appetizers included mugwort tofu—made from mugwort, sesame, and arrowroot, paired with sanada liver, shepherd’s purse, and wasabi, all drizzled with a savory broth. There were also small dishes such as octopus jelly and beef wrapped in burdock. The portions were tiny, but each morsel was exquisitely prepared.

Then, the courses began to arrive intermittently, one by one.

The sashimi course featured thinly sliced Akashi sea bream—this migratory fish, caught in the swift currents of the Akashi Strait, is renowned as one of the finest varieties in Japan. It was accompanied by Tosa soy sauce blended with bonito flakes and fresh shiso sprouts. (Traditionally, sashimi is served with rice and the main soup. When eating, the rice is placed to the left, the soup to the right, and the sashimi furthest away. Sashimi is commonly served as the first course.)

The main soup was a white miso broth with gluten and taro shoots. The fresh gluten from Shonai is considered among the highest quality in Japan, and a touch of mustard was added to enhance the flavor.

The simmered dish was blackfish with grilled matsutake mushrooms. The fish was coated in starch, blanched in clear water, then placed in cold broth, accompanied by grilled matsutake, Japanese angelica, and flavored with green yuzu peel.

The grilled dish was dried, pan-seared perch—its plump flesh seasoned with dried shiso flakes.

The mixed simmered dish from the Hyotei kitchen included small taro, pumpkin, steamed octopus, prawn, lotus root, and okra, all sprinkled with yuzu powder for flavor.

The hassun—an array of beautifully arranged small bites—featured Hyotei egg, grilled and marinated mackerel sushi cooked over charcoal, grilled barracuda rolled in fish roe powder, wild Japanese pear, deep-fried river shrimp, pickled ginger sprout, and a wedge of green lime for seasoning. It must be said, the hassun is the highlight of the kaiseki experience, capturing perfectly the spirit of “hidden treasures beneath humble attire.” The wild Japanese pear, native to Japan, grows on cliffs, and its fruit—no bigger than a bean—ripens each summer, possessing a delicate pear fragrance and commanding a high price. For diners unfamiliar with it, it might be mistaken for a chunk of ginger and swallowed whole.

The final course was a vinegared dish—fresh scallops and abalone, marinated with cucumber, myoga ginger, and pickled plum, topped with a sauce of rice vinegar, sugar, and soy.

All the tableware was designed by renowned ceramic artists and handcrafted. Experienced diners would turn over the pieces before the meal to examine the engraving on the base, checking for the maker's signature. Most of the vessels were porcelain, selected to match the texture and color of the ingredients. Depending on the season, the shape and hue of the tableware would change to complement the food.

The rice was always cooked in a black pottery pot from Tomoda Kiln. Tableware for spring and summer was in lighter colors, evoking freshness and coolness, while autumn and winter called for deeper tones to create warmth. Even the height of the dishes was considered—when multiple plates were served, they were arranged from right to left, low to high, for easier access with chopsticks.

Wang Dongliang and Yang Siqi tasted the dishes while listening to Sakai Dai explain the history and culture of kaiseki, the methods of preparation, and the origins of the ingredients.

For the first time, Wang Dongliang understood what it meant to savor fine cuisine. The street food, home-cooked meals, and restaurant banquets he’d enjoyed before were just “eating”—they could not be called tasting. True tasting is not merely about gratifying the palate, but also encompasses spiritual reflection and cultural experience.

When Wang Dongliang and Yang Siqi left, escorted by several managers from the Chang’an Club, Wang Dongliang felt transformed. He once believed success meant owning a luxury home, driving an expensive car, and having a beautiful woman on his arm. Only now did he realize how distant the lives of the truly wealthy were from his own.

By the time Wang Dongliang took Yang Siqi back to the Film Academy, she was already treating him with great warmth, her expression suggesting that if he asked her to be his girlfriend, she would gladly accept.

But Wang Dongliang remained calm. He knew all this was but an illusion for him, a crown borrowed under the halo of Cheng Xiaoyu.

After seeing Yang Siqi off, Wang Dongliang felt dejected, lacking the courage to ask her out again. Watching her graceful silhouette recede, he longed, for the first time, to truly possess everything he had glimpsed.

Wang Dongliang called Cheng Xiaoyu, telling him he was waiting at the school gate.

Cheng Xiaoyu sat in a milk tea shop across from the gate, watching Wang Dongliang lean against a Lamborghini, smoking. When he got the call, he didn’t rush out—he thought Wang Dongliang needed time to digest everything.

After more than ten minutes, by which time several girls had already approached Wang Dongliang, Cheng Xiaoyu finally walked over.

Wang Dongliang considered Cheng Xiaoyu a brother in adversity. Despite Cheng Xiaoyu’s inscrutable and powerful background, Wang Dongliang had never thought of him as just a seventeen-year-old. Unaware that Cheng Xiaoyu was still in high school, Wang Dongliang naturally regarded him as a peer, and Cheng Xiaoyu carried himself with the poise of a mature adult.

Wang Dongliang stubbed out his cigarette, got in the car, and smiled wryly, “Yu, why did you lead me in such a big circle? Just tell me what you want me to do. As long as it’s within my power, I won’t hesitate.”

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, his deep-set eyes fixed on Wang Dongliang. “It’s not about what I want you to do. The question is, what are you seeking?”

For the first time, Wang Dongliang noticed how striking Cheng Xiaoyu’s eyes were—double-lidded, set deep behind a prominent nose, large and luminous, shining like sapphires in the dark. He heard Cheng Xiaoyu’s question but couldn’t grasp its meaning. His instincts told him something momentous was about to happen. Feeling lost, Wang Dongliang asked, “Yu, what do you mean?”

Cheng Xiaoyu asked softly, “How much do you earn a month?”

Wang Dongliang paused. “Sixteen thousand after tax.” That was considered a high salary at his company—after all, Miaopu wasn’t a big website and was struggling to turn a profit.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled again. “Planning to buy a house?”

Wang Dongliang had only graduated recently, and the savings from the past few years had gone toward a Volkswagen Polo. If not for the two hundred thousand Cheng Xiaoyu had given him some days earlier, he wouldn’t have had a cent left—let alone enough for a down payment. In Beijing, with its soaring prices, buying a house was a distant dream. Hearing Cheng Xiaoyu’s question touched a sore spot. “Where could I possibly afford one now?”

Cheng Xiaoyu patted Wang Dongliang on the shoulder. “A wolf seeks freedom, even at the cost of hardship. It enjoys independent thought, running wild over the grasslands, hunting cattle and sheep, savoring all the delicacies nature offers. After eating its fill, it lies in the sun, basking in the warmth and the free air—master of the prairie, dignified and proud. But when the winter cold comes, the wolf must endure blizzards, learn to find prey beneath deep snow, and often go hungry, always fearing death from starvation or cold. The life of a wolf is half ocean, half flame.

“A dog’s life is the opposite. It can only eat its master’s leftovers, is ordered about, has no freedom, no dignity—only wagging and begging. Yet a dog’s life is secure; though it never tastes delicacies, it doesn’t fear hunger or cold in winter, protected by its master. Dogs are grateful, swearing eternal loyalty, even if beaten and scolded, because obedience is their nature. They endure everything for a stable meal and a fixed ration in old age. If you compare people in real life, most live as dogs—stable, comfortable, but never truly satisfied, longing to leave the kennel but lacking the courage to burn their bridges.”

Cheng Xiaoyu paused. “So, here’s the question: do you want to be a noble wolf or a comfortable dog?”

Wang Dongliang replied without hesitation, “Who would choose to be a dog? Everyone wants to be a wolf! But is it that easy?”

Cheng Xiaoyu looked at him. “Then do you still have the courage to dream? If you just go with the flow, do you think you’ll ever achieve the success you want?”

Wang Dongliang gave a bitter smile. “I once thought I was capable, but reality has mocked me. Yu, I’m not you—I have no influential background. Coming from a small county to BN was already a big deal where I’m from. I never dared dream of having what I’ve seen today.”

Cheng Xiaoyu turned to look at the thick haze outside the window, the crowded high-rises, and said with unshakable conviction, “I’m giving you the chance to witness a miracle with me. Do you still have the courage?”

Years later, when Wang Dongliang had become the COO of Xiyu Corporation, the world’s third-largest company by market value, and counted among the world’s fifty richest people, he would often recall this moment. Smiling to a Time magazine reporter, he’d say, “Yu perhaps always thought his actions and speeches back then were deeply moving and passionate. In truth, everything he did and said was unnecessary. I’d already decided that if he asked me to fly with him, I would have quit my job and followed him. From the very first day, I knew he was destined for greater things.”