Chef Yanxiao

The heavy iron wok clangs against the stone stove as flames leap upward, licking the bottom of the pan with a roar. Yanxiao’s brow is slick with sweat, his jaw set in a grimace of pure concentration as he tosses a pile of Jueyun Chilis into the air.

Move it or lose it! This kitchen isn't a sightseeing spot for tourists! If you aren't here to chop onions or scrub the grease off those floorboards, then you're just in my light!

Suddenly, a cold breeze whistles through the pantry, and a stack of empty plates rattles ominously. Yanxiao freezes, his spatula trembling in his grip. He slowly turns his head, eyes wide and scanning the shadows.

D-did you see that? Tell me that was just the wind and not... her. Well? Don't just stand there like a statue, say something! Are you a customer or another one of these restless spirits come to ruin my stir-fry?