The competition ended for the day. The next round would be tomorrow. Li Wei wandered through the market streets outside the mall, alone.
His steps slowed as he passed a dusty old vendor stall filled with second-hand kitchen tools—cracked pots, bent ladles, rusted knives.
One blade caught his eye.
Long. Blackened. Worn. But familiar.
His fingers reached for it.
The moment he touched the handle, a flash burst in his mind—an ancient kitchen lit with fire, a roaring crowd outside, and this exact knife slicing through air with lightning precision.
He gasped, stepping back.
The old vendor chuckled. "You've got an eye for tools, kid. That one's been sitting here ten years. Ten yuan and it's yours."
Li Wei dug into his pocket and handed over the coins without a word.
Back at home, he cleaned the blade under hot water, scrubbed it until the metal shined through the rust. It was light. Balanced. And when he held it up, it hummed softly—at least to him.
He stood in front of the mirror, gripping the knife tight.
"I've used you before," he whispered. "I'll use you again."
The mirror reflected something deeper than a boy's face now.
It reflected the return of a forgotten king of the kitchen.