CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

Mei stood in the kitchen, a canvas of culinary possibilities spread out before her.

The tantalizing aroma of spices filled the air as she began her dance with the ingredients, each movement deliberate and precise.

Her fingers gracefully wielded the cleaver, an extension of her culinary prowess.

She started by meticulously washing fresh bok choy, the emerald leaves glistening with droplets of water. Her hands moved with a seasoned grace, slicing the vegetables into uniform strips.

The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board echoed in the kitchen, a symphony of preparation.

Next, she focused on the tender slices of chicken, marinating them in a blend of soy sauce, ginger, and garlic. The aroma intensified as she gently massaged the flavors into the meat, ensuring every piece absorbed the essence of the marinade.

Mei's hands moved like a conductor guiding an orchestra, each motion a harmonious contribution to the culinary composition.

As the ingredients marinated, Mei turne
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