Starting from a Bankrupt Sichuan Cuisine Restaurant

The Emei Sect was famous for its egg-drop tofu brain.

The Niu Hua Sect preferred a base of sweet potato noodles and creamy tofu curd, topped with a ladleful of rich, braised beef and its broth for a more fragrant and complex flavor.

The Jiajiang Sect simplified things. They started with a base of creamy tofu curd and loaded it with a diverse mix of toppings: fried peanuts, crispy dough twists, steamed beef, and braised intestines. Every bite was an explosion of ingredients.

Zhou Yan had come to Jiazhou countless times back when he was a food blogger. Outside of Rongcheng, it was the place he knew best in all of Sichuan. When it came to its food, he could talk for hours.

It wasn’t easy being a food blogger. Just looking good while you ate wasn’t enough—that niche was far too crowded.

Sure, Zhou Yan’s success was three parts expertise and seven parts luck, but a solid ninety points went to his looks.

Still, that three parts expertise had taken some serious effort.

Two doors down, there was also a "Liu’s Jiajiang Tofu Brain."

Rivals!

The masters of the great sects never feared competition. In fact, they insisted on gathering together to prove who was best.

Clearly, Mrs. Zhao was a loyalist of the Emei Sect.

What she didn’t know, however, was that within her own family, her dear son had already turned traitor and pledged allegiance to the Niu Hua Sect next door.

"I’ll have a bowl of egg-drop tofu brain with steamed beef," Mrs. Zhao said, taking a seat first. After ordering with the proprietor, she looked at the other three. "What toppings are you getting?"

"I want the Niu Hua Tofu Brain from next door," Zhou Yan said without sitting, pointing next door.

"Hm?" Mrs. Zhao sounded surprised.

The proprietor of Gan’s immediately shot a sharp glare in their direction, his eyes filled with a chilling killing intent.

Meanwhile, the proprietress of Zhao’s next door beamed, calling out enthusiastically, "Hey there, handsome! You want a bowl of tofu brain? What toppings would you like?"

"Add steamed intestines and steamed beef. Make it a little extra spicy," Zhou Yan ordered decisively. Only then did he sit down, satisfied, diagonally across the table from Mrs. Zhao.

This was the furthest possible distance at a single table. Such were the battle lines in a war between sects.

"And you? Don’t tell me you’re a traitor too?" Mrs. Zhao’s eyebrow shot up as she looked at Comrade Zhou, who was still standing.

Comrade Zhou hesitated. "I was thinking of trying the Jiajiang Tofu Brain. I haven’t had it in so long... The last time was three years ago."

Zhou Yan’s eyebrow twitched. ’Good grief,’ he thought. ’One family, three different sects. Are we going to come to blows over a bowl of tofu brain?’

"Go on, then. Go where you want," Mrs. Zhao said with a wave of her hand. She didn’t press the issue; the new gold earrings were still fresh on her mind.

Comrade Zhou happily went to the other neighbor to order a bowl of Jiajiang Tofu Brain. He then returned and cautiously sat down across from Mrs. Zhao.

"What about you? What do you want to eat?" Mrs. Zhao asked, looking at Zhou Momo.

"I want sweet tofu brain," Zhou Momo said.

The proprietress of Gan’s heard her and shook her head. "You’ll have to buy that somewhere else, then. We don’t have sweet tofu brain here."

"We don’t have it either," the proprietress from next door chimed in, also shaking her head.

Zhou Momo’s little lip trembled and her big eyes instantly welled up with tears as she stared at the two proprietors.

The male proprietor was the first to break, waving his hands frantically. "We have it, we have it! Don’t cry, little one. I’ll add some white sugar for you, and I’ll give you extra tofu curd. It’s delicious, I promise! My own granddaughter loves sweet tofu brain too."

His wife couldn’t help but laugh, tacitly approving of her husband’s heretical approach to making tofu brain.

They couldn’t help it. How could anyone say no when the little one was just so adorable?

A smile bloomed on Zhou Momo’s face. "Thank you, Uncle! Thank you, Auntie!" she said sweetly.

"You’re very welcome!" The proprietor’s smile grew even wider, and he threw in an extra spoonful of sugar.

Zhou Yan silently turned his head away, trying his best to suppress a smile by thinking of the saddest moments of his life.

’Unbelievable,’ he thought. ’A perfectly happy family, and yet when it comes to tofu brain, not a single one of us can agree.’

The first dish to arrive was Mrs. Zhao’s Emei Sect egg-drop tofu brain.

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