Chapter 45: Pure Dew, Flowing Jade Essence

Su Yun’s cheeks were flushed as she followed Zhuang Chen into the car, heading straight for the east gate of the Workers’ Stadium. Her heart was pounding like a frightened fawn; she kept her head down, silent, lost in a swirl of thoughts.

Zhuang Chen, on the other hand, was unfazed. He had originally planned to go to Oyster Talks today—the finest place in Beijing for oysters. Dining alone was dull; he thought it better to find a beautiful companion.

His palate had grown increasingly refined, and the pleasures of gourmet food rivaled, even surpassed, those of romance. Xia Long was usually responsible for scouting out the best restaurants. Four Degrees Oyster was the earliest oyster specialty shop in Beijing, offering the widest selection and highest quality of oysters.

They claimed to serve over twenty varieties of freshly flown-in international oysters daily, maintaining superb standards from sourcing, preservation, to shucking, ensuring every oyster was fresh and delectable.

Upon entering, the attendant led Zhuang Chen and Su Yun to a private room, introducing, “Here you can savor the freshest oysters of the day. Our professional shuckers can recommend flavors you might prefer and share the best ways to enjoy oysters.”

After wiping his hands with a towel, Zhuang Chen requested, “Please ask the most experienced chef to come personally. My tastes are rather particular.”

The attendant nodded and left. Noticing Su Yun’s nervousness, he smiled, “I’ve heard the owner and executive chef is Liang Jiajun, a seasoned gourmet from Hong Kong, trained under a French master, who has studied oysters for over twenty years, searching the world, dedicated to promoting oyster culture.”

Picking up the menu, Zhuang Chen scanned it—at least a dozen types of oysters, some he had never even heard of. He was filled with anticipation.

The attendant returned to take their order: “French oysters, Canadian Kusshi, Irish Atlantic Heart, French Black Pearl, Iberian Joselito, and Icelandic scallops—one of each specialty.”

“The main course will be Wellington King Salmon, paired with stir-fried wild mushrooms and hot spring egg, plus two servings of roasted French spring chicken with black truffle.”

“For dessert… pan-seared foie gras with caramelized fig and Japanese ume puree. That’s all for now.”

After taking the order, the attendant said politely, “Very well. From now on, our chef Simon will serve you personally. Please wait a moment.”

“The French oysters here are said to be Belon oysters, known for their intense flavor. If you don’t care for them, you needn’t eat them,” Zhuang Chen explained as he studied the menu. “Gourmet dining is my first passion. Don’t be shy—the more we eat, the happier I am.”

Su Yun gradually relaxed, finally tasting the life of the wealthy—a single phone call fulfilled a dream she’d had for years. A casual meal costing thousands, even tens of thousands; it was simply…

Simon, golden-haired and blue-eyed, pushed in a cart and greeted them in fluent Mandarin, then began preparing the oysters. He pried open the live oysters, rinsed the meat and shell with clean water, drained them, and set them aside.

Oysters are delicious, but their shells are tough to open. Yet with a small sharp knife, Simon easily managed; holding an oyster in his palm, he slipped the knife’s tip into the oval shell with deft precision before Su Yun even saw how it was done.

A gentle press of the wrist, and the translucent, milky oyster meat emerged—plump and fragrant, whetting the appetite.

He arranged them immediately on a round platter, the base layered with crushed ice, garnished with wedges of sliced lemon. For tasting, no condiments were needed—just a few drops of lemon juice.

Zhuang Chen nodded to Simon, picked up an oyster and explained, “French oysters are large, tender, and juicy. After harvesting, they must be purified in seawater tanks. After a week, they expel all silt and surface impurities before passing quality certification.”

“The shell is flat, indicating it’s from the brackish waters where the Belon River meets the sea. Because of its unique metallic taste, it’s also known as the ‘copper oyster.’”

Simon smiled, “You’re absolutely right. Belon oysters are graded into eleven levels, based on shell size and weight—the smallest is No.6, bigger is No.5, and so on.”

“After No.1, larger ones are rated as ‘0’. Ninety grams is ‘0’, with the largest being ‘00000’. Too small lacks meat, too large becomes tough, so three or four zeros—grown for three to five years—are the best.”

“Both texture and flavor reach their peak. All our Belon oysters are AOC certified, absolutely safe for eating raw. Please enjoy with confidence.”

The attendant brought a glass of red wine. Simon explained to Su Yun, “For ladies, since Belon is very intense, pairing it with red wine is essential for balance. At first taste, there’s a numbing sensation—an explosion of flavor. That’s why Belon is called the king of oysters.”

Zhuang Chen slowly placed the oyster in his mouth, and instantly the surging tide of the ocean seemed to flood the world—both grand and tender. The sea breeze carried sweetness and rich oyster aroma, crashing like giant waves.

Then came the metallic note, spreading from the tip of the tongue throughout the body, like an electric current!

His senses were deeply shaken, the lingering numbing sensation intoxicating, the experience profound…

Beside him, Su Yun nervously took a small bite, then immediately coughed violently, unable to bear it, her face burning. “Sorry, so sorry…”

Zhuang Chen and Simon laughed heartily. It was indeed a bit too intense for some women. Simon produced another oyster, displaying it, “If Belon is the king, then Gillardeau is the queen of oysters.”

“This is France’s top oyster brand. Every genuine Gillardeau oyster bears a unique G stamp on the shell.”

“Each one is relocated four or five times during its life, passing through fifty-nine stages of cultivation and refinement, washed by pure ocean water, and only after more than four years is it ready for market.”

Once prepared and placed on the table, Zhuang Chen picked up an oyster. Its fullness is evident from its shape and weight—if it’s deep and cup-shaped, and feels heavy in the hand, it’s a sign of quality.

Picking it up, you immediately sense the strong aroma of seawater—first an intense saltiness, due to the high salinity of its breeding grounds.

But this saltiness is pure and natural, crisp without a trace of bitterness, the true taste of sea salt.

Then comes the oyster’s fresh fragrance—plump, firm meat with a springy texture, bursting with oceanic freshness and a complex sweet aroma. With careful tasting, there’s even a subtle milky note.

The layers are distinct yet harmoniously blended, with hints of hazelnut flavor like mischievous children, faintly appearing. The tender meat linking shell and oyster is chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness.

A sip of red wine—simply exquisite.

“So delicious!” Su Yun finally understood the allure of raw oysters, her face radiant with pleasure. No wonder each is priced in the thousands—spectacular!

Next came Irish Atlantic Heart oysters, from the protected Dungarvan Bay where Atlantic currents converge—rich, plump, with a pronounced mineral flavor and a hint of citrus.

French Black Pearl oysters—long shells, meat full and resilient, translucent texture, with milky notes hidden in their rich sweetness.

Forty-eight-month aged Iberian Joselito oysters, perfectly paired with the house’s selected white wine.

Enormous South African abalone, slow-cooked to extraordinary tenderness.

First-grade Icelandic scallops, thick and sweet, offering unexpected delights upon tasting.

Zhuang Chen sampled the stir-fried wild mushrooms with hot spring egg, murmuring, “Drumstick mushroom, golden chanterelle, black truffle… and the rare brown mushroom?”

Thick, juicy, and fragrant, the mushroom salad was topped with a small soft tube for self-seasoning. It looked like ordinary olive oil, but was actually a homemade aromatic oil.

Made by soaking over ten types of dried mushrooms in olive oil for two weeks, extracting their essence. Before eating, a few drops from the tube are added to the already fragrant salad, as if the whole autumn mountain had been brought to the plate.

The main course, Wellington King Salmon, followed the style of Wellington beef but replaced the heavy crust with a light, multi-layered pastry, reminiscent of Cantonese dim sum.

The airy pastry matched the mild fish perfectly, with caviar and eggplant miso sauce adding a touch of ocean flavor in their own distinct ways.

Beside it, a spoonful of caviar, and a concentrated sauce—surprisingly, eggplant miso—brought a refreshing twist.

Roasted French spring chicken with black truffle—not only was truffle paste spread on the skin, but also thickly layered between skin and meat before roasting.

The yellow chicken was wrapped with black truffle, slow-cooked with vegetables, filtered through chicken breast mousse, a process that took three days to yield the deep red, clear chicken consommé, seasoned only with salt, with an exceptionally rich aroma.

He recalled the Song dynasty poet Mei Xiaochen’s lines:

In the kitchen, the blaze of charcoal flames, roasting herbs and greens.
Sacrificed to the pot, sealed as if to escape.
Peeking through the door, clear broth flows like jade.
Autumn wind brings longing for perch sashimi, frosty days for crab claws.
All are nature’s gifts, delight and grandeur alike.