[Zhao sniffed away his own emotions and smiled. Food, in his opinion, always made everything better. Whatever emotional detonation Joon-gi was going through, the karage was helping with the healing process. He chewed thoughtfully before responding.]

Just a lot of people from the older generations. They'd be pretty fuckin' quick to rap you with a ladle or worse if you couldn't keep up. Sometimes it was my dad for recipes. Sometimes the old guard, but they didn't praise me for anything til I was an adult.

Most of the time just the older generation. Best of them was old man Huang. He didn't give a fuck who you were, only how well you could learn. Taught my dad too, I think. He taught me how preparing food the best of your ability was also showing respect to people who wanted to eat. They're trusting you to feed not just their bodies but their souls and if you could honor that trust, you'd have customers for life.

I lose track who taught what dish. Kinda blends together.

[Maybe because they were in the light of the kitchen during the late night. Or because he hadn't bothered with his rings. But a fine line of white was visible on the backs of his fingers of his left hand. It looked like it'd happened all about the same time and probably with something sharp.]

Sometimes I dream about being taught and I can hear their voices again. It's like saying hi after they died. Kinda neat.