And Hao's take on it?
He was fifty-fifty.
You could call him a coward. A fence-sitter. A man without conviction.
He didn't care.
Sometimes it slapped. Other times? It made him question the trajectory of civilization.
If we're talking fries and sundae… the fries better be crispy!
Crunchy. Golden. Sacred. That perfect 'shkrrrk' sound when you bite in.
Because soggy fries?
No. Absolutely not.
Soggy fries dipped into soft-serve ice cream were an insult to both fries and ice cream. They were the culinary equivalent of soggy socks.
Of stepping in something wet in your kitchen and not knowing what it was. Of getting out of bed and stepping on a cold floor with no slippers.
It was an offense against common sense.
Against the Dao of Dignity.
But in the end, Hao knew it all boiled down to one thing.
Preference.
Some liked sweet. Some liked salty.
Some liked both together in an unholy fusion that made your ancestors roll in their graves.
