"Incredible culinary justice!"
Nuliang elder commented.
His eyes looked like dustless mirrors, his brows adorned with an air of purity.
The second judge, who claimed to be "Yoshitsune," red-haired, muttered, "A mind free of dust is a mind at peace. I didn't expect tasting cuisine could also grant a meditation-like state of mind."
"Pluck a branch of green plums, brew a pot of plum wine, and drink with the passing time."
The third judge, a monk with a straw hat, pressed his palms together, lowering his gaze as he spoke, his mind still picturing himself in a thatched hut in Shangri-la, cooking with plum wine and hosting mountain guests.
"A wine that makes one comfortable and calm."
The fourth judge, a black-haired woman sitting in the chair, stretched and fondly recalled, "It's been a long time since I've felt this free and without worries or sorrows."
"What's its name?" asked the fifth judge, her voice crisp.
Then, the camera returned to Lan Chuhai.
