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The club had a billiard room, but there weren’t many people in the club that day, and it wasn’t much fun with just the three of them, so they got in the car and headed to a nearby billiard club.

“Sorry, no tables available.”

The billiard club owner, a middle-aged man wearing glasses, seeing the disappointment on Spencer Burley’s face, reminded him:

“However, you can challenge a table. Winners stay, losers leave.”

“Really?”

Spencer had never played in such a place before, so he wasn’t aware of this rule, but Greg knew about it.

He nodded and said, “There is such a rule.”

“Cool, let’s go challenge a table then.”

Spencer seemed very excited and took the lead heading inside.

Greg nodded towards the owner and followed him into the club.

The club wasn’t big, with only six tables, three of which were doubles games. There was just one table where a man was practicing alone.

The man looked to be around fifty, a bit short in stature, practicing some trick shots.

Seeing this, Spencer walked straight over and said, “Hey, older brother, want to play a game? Loser leaves.”

The middle-aged man glanced at the three of them and then laughed, “With my skills, I’d better not. You guys go ahead and play; I’ll take a break.”

“Ah, that’s really kind of you.”

Spencer was overjoyed and quickly offered a cigarette, “Here, older brother, have a smoke.”

“Thank you.”

The middle-aged man took the cigarette and waved at the owner, signaling that it was time for someone else to take over, and then sat down on a nearby chair.

Spencer asked, “Greg, who’s going first?”

Greg shook his head with a smile, “You two play first; I’ll watch for a bit.”

“Then we’ll start. The loser steps down.”

“I’ll definitely beat you.”

Greg watched the two eagerly discuss winning and losing and couldn’t help but smile.

His skills used to be average, but now, with enhanced muscle control and sharper senses than before, he was confident he could beat most people.

Spencer and Adrian Wright would likely not be his match.

He wasn’t interested in bullying the weak; the reason he joined Adrian and Spencer was merely to spend some time in a different setting.

He took out a cigarette, searched for a while, but realized he didn’t bring a lighter. Just as he was about to ask Spencer for one, the middle-aged man next to him took the initiative and lit it for him.

In the moment the middle-aged man leaned in, Greg sharply smelled the scent of cooking fumes.

“Thanks!”

“No need to be polite, we’re all players here, haha.”

The middle-aged man laughed, and Greg saw a hint of melancholy in his smile.

He laughed too and casually asked, “Big brother, you’re a chef, right?”

“Yo, how did you know?” The middle-aged man expressed some surprise.

Greg laughed, “I can smell the cooking fumes on you.”

“Hahaha, it must be the scent of green onions.”

The middle-aged man laughed heartily, “In the kitchen, the most persistent scent is that of green onions, and since most dishes require them, chefs often carry a strong scent of green onions.

Even after changing clothes and taking a shower, you can smell it if you’re close enough.”

Greg casually said, “At your age, brother, you look like a top-tier chef.”

“Top-tier chef…”

The middle-aged man shook his head, his smile tinged with bitterness, “I was considered a top-tier chef before, but not anymore. Now, I’m just a chopper in a small restaurant.”

“Prepping the ingredients?”

“Yeah.”

The middle-aged man nodded, and the forlorn look on his face flashed by, then he said with pride, “I’ll tell you, I used to be the head chef of a legitimate five-star hotel.”

Back then, I sat around the kitchen all day, sipped on tea, had a smoke when there was nothing pressing, tasted dishes and such, and the day just passed by like that, not like now…”

Greg Jensen was taken aback and asked, “Then why did you stop doing it?”

The middle-aged man’s face darkened as he gave a wry smile, “A big fire took everything, my wife and child, and in my sorrow, I drowned myself in alcohol, numbing my tongue.

You see, I speak clearly now, but I can’t even taste the difference between saltiness and blandness, how could I continue being a chef?

Now, I can only rely on the knife skills I’ve honed over more than a decade to scrape by and make a living.”

“From drinking?”

“Yeah, from drinking.”

The middle-aged man thought Greg Jensen didn’t believe him and said with a curled lip, “Listen, brother, I’m not bragging.

Go out and ask around, the old gourmands who have some years on them, there isn’t one who doesn’t know of Joel Edwards.”

Greg Jensen’s eyes brightened as he smiled, “Big brother, would it be convenient for me to take your pulse?”

“Take my pulse?”

Joel Edwards was stunned, and after a moment murmered, “You know how to take a pulse?”

“Yes, actually, I am a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine.”

“Traditional Chinese medicine?”

Joel Edwards scoffed, “Come off it, you’re just a kid and you’re trying to fool me too? What could someone as young as you know about traditional Chinese medicine?”

Greg Jensen put away his smile, imitating Joel Edwards’ tone from before, and said seriously, “Big brother Joel, if you don’t believe me, go to Riverhaven County and ask around about how widely known I, the Divine Doctor Greg Jensen, am.”

“Yeah right, as if I have money for you to fool around with.”

“It’s free!”

Joel Edwards was taken aback, murmuring, “Free?”

Greg Jensen nodded, “Yes, free. I will give you an examination for free, and if it’s something I can treat, I’ll even cover your medication costs!”

Joel Edwards, looking at the earnestness on Greg Jensen’s face, finally grew serious and asked, “What’s in it for you?”

“Haha, isn’t that simple? If I can cure you, you’ll work as my head chef for a few years.”

“Head chef?”

Upon hearing this, Joel Edwards immediately became irate, “Are you kidding me, lad? Aren’t you a traditional Chinese medicine doctor? What’s that got to do with running a restaurant?”

Greg Jensen said flatly, “Who says a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine can’t run a restaurant?”

“Er, well, when you put it that way… but…”

“Enough chit-chat, if we had used this time for the check-up, it would be finished by now.”

Seeing Joel Edwards about to continue rambling, Greg Jensen promptly grabbed his hand and placed three fingers on his wrist.

“Hold on, you…”

Joel Edwards, seeing what was happening, didn’t say another word. He seemed indifferent, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes betrayed him.

After a short while, a smile appeared on Greg Jensen’s face.

Joel Edwards grew more anxious and pressed, “Lad, how is it, is there any hope for my sense of taste?”

Greg Jensen silently let go of his wrist and chuckled, “Didn’t you say you didn’t believe me?”

“Hey, now you’re getting carried away.”

Joel Edwards pursed his lips, eager for an answer, “Lad, come on, tell me.”

Greg Jensen pondered for a moment, then nodded, “It’s treatable, but afterward, you need to drink less alcohol. You must not exceed two liang a day so that your tongue can still be of use for a few more decades.”

Joel Edwards asked nervously, “Really?”

“Of course, I’m not taking your money, so what use is there in deceiving you?”

“Fair point!”

Joel Edwards nodded, then suddenly looked up at Greg Jensen, and asked, “Lad, can my tongue really be treated?”

“Really!”

Greg Jensen was getting annoyed as he retorted, “Look, are you going to do it or not?”