Chapter 372 - 162: The Pokémon’s Island Escape (Part 2)

Chapter 372: Chapter 162: The Pokémon’s Island Escape (Part 2)

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Meanwhile, Anthony finished marinating the steak.

Chili sauce, chili sauce...

He muttered to himself as he pulled a jar of hot sauce from the cabinet behind him.

Sriracha, with its classic rooster logo.

After so many years in China, this was the only chili sauce he’d grown accustomed to.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t an ingredient for the restaurant, but part of his personal stash.

He didn’t know if it would suit the girl’s taste, but an Italian restaurant didn’t exactly keep chili sauce on hand as a regular ingredient.

But after rummaging around for a good while, he couldn’t find his lifeline.

’Crap.’ He thought to himself, ’I think I finished this bottle and haven’t bought a new one.’

But what was he going to do about the promise he’d made to the customer?

He sighed and opened the freezer again.

Inside stood a glass jar, and on the jar was an elderly Chinese woman’s face.

The Italian man stared at the Chinese woman for a few seconds.

Anthony flinched.

’Is this really okay?’

’Using a Chinese chili sauce to make a Mexican-style Italian pizza?’

He felt an invisible wall inside him crumble.

He thought, ’Anthony, oh, Anthony, why are you still clinging to those useless principles? Just go out that door and tell the girl:’

"I’m sorry, my beautiful lady, forgive my impertinence, but I simply cannot fulfill your request."

But just a few minutes ago, he had replied with a smile, "Of course, no problem."

What was romance? Romance was nonchalantly accomplishing the impossible. It was bringing that pizza to the table and seeing the customers’ surprised smiles. If it weren’t for those smiles, he never would have bothered to put a seasonal pizza on the menu in the first place.

Just as he was feeling frustrated, the curtain to the kitchen was pushed aside again. Anthony paused, his hands still on the dough he was cutting, only to see it was an unfamiliar young man.

This time, he spoke directly in Chinese:

"Sorry, the restaurant is very busy today. If you need something, please tell a waiter."

He couldn’t be bothered to play his usual game of using English to make people give up and leave. Instead, he was telling the boy in no uncertain terms: No, please turn around and go back.

Unexpectedly, the young man wasn’t there to talk about pizza or to chat with a foreigner. He simply brought up a photograph—one of his prized works hanging on the restaurant’s art wall.

"That aurora photo is beautiful."

What surprised him even more was that not only was the young man’s English fluent, but he also had a standard British accent. Not to mention, "aurora" isn’t exactly a common vocabulary word in English.

Actually, that was all fine. He knew many kids studied for the IELTS and TOEFL exams, and some students spoke English even more fluently than he did.

But what the boy said next left him stunned:

"That photo might not be your proudest work, but it must be your most unforgettable. It was taken at the southern end of Vatnaj?kull Glacier. You have to take an icebreaker to get there, and you can only capture that magnificent light in December when the nights are longest. The coldest season in the world’s coldest country... it must have been an ordeal."

"Of course, of course." The words stirred Anthony’s memories, and a smile unconsciously appeared on his face. "I still remember the Toyota SUV breaking down on the way. My partner and I waited a full three hours for a rescue team, but it was all worth it."

"Sir," he said, unconsciously switching from "boy" to "sir." "If I could, I would love to sit down with you and talk about this beautiful world, but as you can see—"

He held up his flour-dusted hands.

"We’re at full capacity here."

Zhang Shutong had anticipated this reaction. He hadn’t wanted to beat around the bush so much either, but his next request was far from something as simple as adding a little spice to a pizza. It was...

Fruit.

Zhang Shutong didn’t know what fruit meant to an Italian. Strawberry-filled dumplings, maybe?

This owner had a strong personality. Zhang Shutong remembered a time when his group was having a meal here. Some other boss had come in with his mistress and tried to book the entire restaurant, slapping a wad of cash on the table, only to be thrown out. They had been shocked at the time. The owner came back, waved his hand dismissively, and said in his broken Chinese, "That man doesn’t respect his wife. I don’t want to serve people like that."

Zhang Shutong had chatted with this owner quite a bit and knew how to appeal to his tastes.

He spoke again:

"The cartridge on that record player is better suited for classical music. I’d suggest switching to a piano piece instead of jazz. You’ve been to Japan and photographed the old temples there. You could try that Ryuichi Sakamoto piece about Christmas. It goes from calm to sorrowful, then to pure. December and the Iceland aurora are a good match."

Anthony was taken aback again. ’You Chinese are full of hidden talents,’ he thought. ’How can some random person just walk in and know what I’m thinking?’ In fact, he was currently asking someone to find him some records by pianists. The records were the main expense for a record player; sometimes he’d love a piece of music but couldn’t for the life of him find a suitable record.

"I’ll give it a try," he said with a wry smile. "It’s been a pleasure talking with you. I almost forgot I was in a kitchen and not a coffee shop. If you have a request, please tell me. I’ll do my best to accommodate you."

But the young man still didn’t state his purpose. He possessed knowledge far beyond his years and mercilessly leaped to the next topic:

"That bottle of ’97 Margaux in your wine cabinet must be from your personal collection, right? I hear that was a very special vintage. The rainfall was heavy, and even though it’s a Bordeaux chateau, the wine produced that year had a flavor somewhat reminiscent of Burgundy. Some consider it a failure, while others see it as a one-of-a-kind treasure. You must be a man of unique taste."

Anthony’s expression turned completely serious.