Chapter Forty-Six
In the early morning in Paris, before dawn, Mo Wansheng had already woken up.
It was less of a wake-up call and more of a light sleep.
Although she fell asleep peacefully last night with Huo Yuzheng's comforting words, she didn't sleep soundly.
Mo Wansheng opened her eyes; Huo Yuzheng beside her was still fast asleep.
In the dim light, his hard profile appeared softer, and his regular breathing was reassuring.
She carefully moved her body, trying to get up, but the arm around her waist tightened around her waist.
"Just ten more minutes of sleep." His voice was hoarse with heavy sleepiness.
He nuzzled his chin affectionately against the top of her head, as if all his actions were done unconsciously.
Mo Wansheng lay back down, shifting her body to get closer to Huo Yuzheng.
Listening to his steady heartbeat, until the sky outside the window turned from dark blue to pale white.
Her heart calmed down.
A soft knock sounded at the hotel door.
The waiter has come to bring breakfast.
Huo Yuzheng was the first to get up, put on his bathrobe, and open the door to take the food cart.
When he pushed the food cart in, his face had lost its previous languor and regained its usual clarity and composure.
The silver lid was lifted, revealing a nutritious breakfast.
Warm milk, whole wheat bread, protein-rich scrambled eggs, and croissants.
"You have to finish it all." Huo Yuzheng pushed the milk in front of her. "You need to have enough energy today."
Mo Wansheng sipped her milk, her gaze involuntarily drifting to the clock on the wall.
It was exactly 7:00 AM.
She remembered his schedule.
Huo Yuzheng is going to a meeting in the La Défense business district today.
...
On the way to the competition venue, He Zihang noticed that Mo Wansheng was absent-minded.
He asked softly, "Isn't he coming to the event today?"
Mo Wansheng nodded. "Yes, he has a job, a very important merger and acquisition deal."
She deliberately spoke in a lighthearted manner, trying to suppress the inexplicable sense of loss in her heart.
Actually, this is for the best, she thought, at least he won't have to witness her possible mistakes or embarrassing situations.
At that moment, my phone vibrated.
She took it out; it was a message from Huo Yuzheng.
One of the photos is of him in a meeting room.
The message was brief: "I'm in a meeting now, I'll come see you after the meeting, keep it up."
She looked at the photo, then finally lowered her arm and turned off her phone.
He Zihang glanced at her and smiled gently, "Don't overthink it, just treat it as regular practice."
The stadium was bustling with noise.
Under the enormous glass dome, the seats were packed with media, audiences, and food lovers from all over the world.
The air smelled very sweet, a rich blend of powdered sugar, cream, and chocolate.
Mo Wansheng and He Zihang pushed a cart full of ingredients and tools into the contestants' area.
She subconsciously looked towards the VIP area in the first row.
Those reserved spots with the best views were indeed empty.
The host walked onto the stage, the rousing music stopped, and the entire audience gradually quieted down.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the finals of the 5th International Pastry Master Competition!"
The host's captivating voice resonated throughout the venue, "Today, ten groups of top pastry chefs from around the world will spend five hours here presenting us with an ultimate feast for the senses! And the theme of this competition is—"
He paused deliberately to create suspense, and the spotlight swept across the tense faces of all the contestants.
"Mémoire (memory)!"
memory?
Mo Wansheng was slightly taken aback, and many images flashed through her mind.
The old notebook Huo Yuzheng gave her, with its yellowed sketches of Lyon street scenes.
The postcard hidden on the wall of the "Pelican" café, written to his "future wife".
His weary yet resolute embrace in the early morning in Paris.
And these days, they squeezed into one bed, sharing the tranquility of each other's body temperature and the soft sound of each other's breathing.
...
memory.
The most precious memories.
"Dear contestants, please use your skillful hands and ingenuity to interpret the most unique and precious memory in your hearts!"
The host announced, "Now, let's start the timer!"
A five-hour countdown timer lit up on the giant screen, and the red numbers began to jump.
“Memory…” He Zihang frowned slightly and looked at Mo Wansheng, “Wansheng, what are your thoughts?”
The other contestants were already busy, and the air was filled with the sounds of mixers, ovens, and clattering utensils.
Ding ding dang dang.
Mo Wansheng took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
She closed her eyes, and the chaotic images finally settled on that familiar face.
A thought clearly emerged.
“I want to do it,” she opened her eyes, her gaze clear and resolute, “memories of 'waiting'.”
He Zihang was somewhat puzzled, "Wait?"
Mo Wansheng nodded, "Mm."
She began deftly taking stock of the ingredients on the worktable, "not passively waiting, but steadfastly and hopefully holding on. Believing in an inevitable encounter in the unknown."
She decided to make a modified version of the Santo Donovan black cream puff tart.
This is a classic French dessert with a complex structure that requires exceptional skill.
It is suitable for carrying the profound emotions she wants to express.
Mo Wansheng kneaded the butter into the flour and began making the base of the puff pastry.
Every fold and roll requires absolute precision. She concentrates intently until the dough in her hands becomes as thin as a cicada's wing.
The layers of flaky pastry constitute time itself.
When countless ordinary days are piled up, they create the brilliance of life's blossoming.
The caramel was bubbling away in the small pot, releasing tiny bubbles.
The heat was precisely controlled, resulting in varying shades of amber.
She carefully dipped those tiny cream puffs in caramel.
She hung them in a staggered arrangement around the golden-brown tarts.
Time passed, and fine beads of sweat appeared on Mo Wansheng's forehead.
He Zihang worked well with her, taking charge of the meringue that required extremely high stability and some of the decorations.
As she focused on filling the cream puffs with vanilla bean seed cream, a subtle but different commotion suddenly arose from the direction of the audience.
That wasn't just ordinary discussion; it was more like a suppressed exclamation and attention.
He Zihang gently touched her arm, "Wansheng".
Mo Wansheng raised her head and followed his gaze.
The giant display screen hanging above the control panel is currently showing its camera on the VIP seats.
It's Huo Yuzheng.
He sat in the center of the first row, a seat that had previously been empty.
His perfectly tailored dark gray suit accentuated his sharp shoulders.
He tilted his head slightly, listening to the whispers of a jury chairman beside him.
The white-haired, highly respected French chef looked focused and humble.
Perhaps it was telepathy, but the moment Mo Wansheng looked at him, Huo Yuzheng suddenly turned his head away.
Across the bustling staff and the dense array of cameras, their gazes met in the air, locking onto each other.
Huo Yuzheng did not laugh, nor did he show any other expression.
He simply gazed at her intently with his deep eyes.
There was no language, no movement.
He showed her with his eyes, "I'm here."
A warm, throbbing sensation surged through her chest.
Mo Wansheng quickly lowered her head to hide her overwhelming joy.
She gripped the piping bag, which was about to slip from her hand, even tighter.
Finally, they began the final assembly.
The base of the cream puff tower is edged with perfectly melted dark chocolate, delicately outlining the winding contours of the Seine River.
In the very center, a vibrant rose is piped using cream infused with raspberry jam.
The center of the rose is adorned with a small, round mango coulis.
They used this to express that after a long wait, they finally welcomed a love full of vitality and fulfillment.
When the last step is completed, the timer reaches zero.
All the lights were focused on her artwork.
It's not just a dessert; it's more like a miniature landscape, a story frozen in time.
The caramel puffs shimmer with an amber luster, like precious fragments of memories.
The roses in the center are vibrant and full of life, embodying a burgeoning emotion.
The Seine River-shaped base has smooth and gentle lines.
The judges walked past each group's workstation one by one, and finally stopped in front of her work.
The white-haired chairman of the judging panel carefully examined the cream puff tower.
After a long while, he raised his head and looked at Mo Wansheng and He Zihang.
He asked gently in English with a heavy French accent, "My child, can you tell us what kind of story your dessert about 'memory' is trying to tell?"
The entire room fell silent, and all the cameras were pointed at them.
He Zihang smiled slightly, looked at Mo Wansheng, and gestured for her to speak her mind.
Mo Wansheng took a deep breath and turned her gaze back to the VIP area.
Huo Yuzheng remained seated, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped on his knees.
She turned around, facing the judges and the audience, her voice clearly audible through the microphone.
"This dessert is called 'L'Attente' (waiting). It's about a seemingly futile, yet unwavering, waiting."
Her fingertip pointed to the base of the flaky pastry, "These layers of pastry represent the passage of time. These caramel puffs are the still shining moments and hopes while we are waiting."
"Each of us may have been waiting for something in life, whether it's waiting for a person, an answer, or a moment that intersects with destiny."
"Everything about waiting is also a unique memory in our lives."
Mo Wansheng paused for a moment, then her gaze met Huo Yuzheng's again, where she could read the encouragement in his eyes.
She gently turned the display stand, revealing a line of elegant French lettering written in caramel on the side of the base:
"Avant de te rencontrer, je t'attendais déjà."
(I was already waiting for you before I even met you.)
A few gasps of surprise came from the judges' panel.
The old master chef looked at the words and then gave Mo Wansheng a deep look.
Finally, his gaze swept over Huo Yuzheng, who stood calmly in the VIP section, and a knowing smile appeared on his face.
“It’s very touching.” The old chef’s voice was filled with emotion. “I think this waiting has found its most perfect destination and tasted the sweetest answer.”
The judges returned to their seats and began discussing the final results of the competition.
When the host finally held the golden envelope, he read out the winner's number in an excited voice.
He clearly stated, "China, Mo Wansheng, He Zihang."
A huge wave of applause and cheers swept through the entire venue.
He Zihang turned around excitedly and gave her a big hug. "We did it, Wansheng! You did it!"
The flashbulbs were going off like crazy, almost drowning everything out.
Mo Wansheng was so overwhelmed by this immense joy that she felt dizzy.
She accepted the heavy gold medal, but her gaze instinctively pierced through the cheering crowd, searching for that figure.
Huo Yuzheng had already stood up; he did not rise with the crowd to applaud and cheer.
He simply stood quietly at the boundary between the shadows and the glow of the audience, creating his own little world.
He reached out and clapped for her, a smile spreading across his face.
He mouthed each word clearly to her in a way only the two of them could understand:
Let's go home together.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
