“Ohme!” Tum whispered, nearly lunging forward in pure instinct, but a hand suddenly gripped his arm, pulling him ducking into the shadows.
Inside the pavilion, Wenjie swept his fingers along the faceted edges of the glass, lingering over the nuanced aftertaste on his palate. “What is this drink anyway? Why does every sip make me feel instantly relieved?”
Ohme’s lips curved into a subtle smile as he gestured toward a tall glass bottle. “Amethyst Twilight the jewel of dusk.”
Wenjie knit his brows in quiet confusion, but the masked artisan did not leave him guessing for long.
“It is inspired by the very lavender fields we are sitting in,” Ohme explained, uncorking the bottle and pouring a stream into a cobbler shaker. “This beverage is a custom mead, brewed with a wild yeast base harvested from butterfly pea blossoms and wild flower honey.”
He stooped down to retrieve a vessel from a mini-refrigerator concealed beneath the counter, placing it before Wenjie. Inside, indigo butterfly pea petals floated gracefully in dissolved honey, their vibrant blue pigments slowly bleeding into a soft, ethereal pink gradient.
“Once the yeast culture reaches peak strength, it is blended with lavender floral water and left to ferment until natural effervescence builds and a delicate alcoholic note emerges. That spritz you experienced moments ago is pure, natural carbonation.”
Ohme cut a thin, translucent wheel of fresh lemon, following it with a few drops of chamomile syrup from a small vial straight into the shaker.
“And what are you crafting now?” Wenjie asked, his eyes hypnotized by every practiced movement.
“A concoction to awaken your conviction,” Ohme replied, his lips arching slightly.
Wenjie broke into an unexpected smile, nodding with a soft, amused smirk. “Well, I’d like to see if your bold claims can truly restore my confidence.” He offered a welcoming gesture.
Ohme smiled, using ice tongs to deposit clear cubes into the shaker before sealing the top. He initiated a crisp, rhythmic shaking sequence. The rapid, clinking percussion filled the pavilion, surrounding Wenjie with a strangely soothing acoustic rhythm.
Pivoting around, Ohme selected a tall, wide-rimmed cocktail glass. Its silhouette was intentionally distorted yet perfectly symmetrical an avant-garde marvel resembling a delicate flower petal swaying in the wind. Next, he hand-carved a pristine ice block into a perfect cube and uncapped the shaker spout. Taking a long-stemmed bar spoon, he swirled the ice cube to chill the vessel evenly before pouring the violet-pink elixir over the top. The liquid cascaded in fizzy, sparkling waves, leaving the thin lemon wheel settled elegantly at the base. He floated three to four dried lavender buds atop the foam, lightly dusted the white froth with vibrant blue butterfly pea powder, and finished by garnishing the rim with a fresh butterfly pea sprig complete with its delicate stem and leaves.
He slid the crystal creation smoothly across the counter, bringing it to a halt directly before his guest.
“Please.” Ohme extended his hand in invitation.
Wenjie stared at the exquisite drink, a faint smirk tugging at his lips before he lifted the glass and took a slow sip.
The instant the liquid touched his tongue, the aromatic burst of lavender and cold-pressed lemon oil transmitted an immediate signal straight to his brain. His eyes widened in sheer astonishment. As he swallowed, the crisp effervescence fused seamlessly with the smooth, bittersweet velvet of three distinct botanical notes, leaving an impossibly clean, fragrant finish lingering down his throat.
He took another deep sip. The entire flavor profile erupted like an oceanic wave washing over his senses sweeping through him with the relaxing scent of lavender, the invigorating fizz of butterfly pea yeast and raw honey, and the delicate, honeyed sweetness of chamomile syrup. The sensory surge melted the tension from his facial muscles, relaxing his eyes almost instantaneously.
“How do you find it?” Ohme asked softly.
Wenjie blinked slowly, letting his rigid spine sink back against the chair’s backrest.
“Unbelievably relaxing... yet it feels like an instant energy reboot,” he muttered, an unprompted smile gracing his lips.
“Then my congratulations. Today’s drink was custom-engineered specifically for your current emotional frequency.”
Wenjie opened his eyes, letting out a long exhale as if a massive weight had been lifted from his chest. Despite the suffocating anxiety caused by the stock market crisis earlier that afternoon a tension that seemed impossible to dissolve a single tasting of Chef Lom’s creation had brought a profound, unexpected tranquility to his soul.
“Whether it was the first time I tasted your cuisine or right now... in the end, I truly have to surrender to your mastery,” he admitted, smiling faintly as his gaze shifted from the masked chef to the violet-pink drink and then to the chef’s attire.
His eyes traced the tailored linen shirt a light, breathable Chinese Mandarin-collar design buttoned neatly to the neck. The fabric featured an ethereal color gradient, shifting seamlessly from deep royal purple at the collar and shoulders down into cobalt blue, soft sky blue, and finally concluding in a delicate lavender-pink along the hem and cuffs. Bound around his head was an indigo-dyed wrap, knotted stylishly at the side with trailing fabric cut into the likeness of butterfly pea petals. His waist-tied apron was adorned with intricate botanical illustrations of lavender and butterfly pea blossoms, mirroring the exact aesthetic of the lavender fields bathed in twilight.
“Did you... already know that I would be driven here by overwhelming stress today?” Wenjie asked in sheer awe.
Ohme glanced down at his attire, offering a subtle, knowing grin.
“Chef Lom cooks with edible flowers, and it is my solemn duty to weather the emotional storms of my visiting guests exactly as the concept demands.”
Hearing this, Wenjie let out a hearty laugh.
“No wonder you achieved global acclaim. So this is your secret... I imagine prominent titans of business and powerful figures frequent your pop-ups quite often.” Wenjie lowered his gaze slightly.
Ohme locked his eyes onto his guest with a quiet, penetrating depth. “You desperately wish to conquer that man, don't you?”
Wenjie froze momentarily before lifting his eyes toward the canvas ceiling, staring up at the woven starlight and dried lavender.
“You still remember the story I shared with you, right? About the one person in this world I utterly despise...” He paused, meeting the silent, attentive gaze of his host, who listened without interrupting a single word.
“That man... is my father.”
Ohme listened without a flicker of surprise, offering only a slow, deliberate nod. The quiet acceptance instantly stripped away any residual discomfort, encouraging Wenjie to continue.
“I want to... crush him. I want to bring him to his knees.”
Ohme remained silent for a beat before folding his arms across his chest. “That is not difficult at all,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a sharp, brilliant spark.
“Do you recall when you last consulted me on how to navigate your internal chaos? I crafted a dish for you using marigold blossoms symbolizing new beginnings and resolute forward strides.” The world-famous chef was referencing their very first encounter.
The heir nodded. “I remember.”
“And you proceeded to play the game on your own terms without heeding anyone else's voice pioneering a new path guided purely by your own instincts. Even if victory wasn't absolute on the first strike, it was hardly a defeat, was it?” Ohme tilted his brow, locking eyes with him as if awaiting confirmation.
Wenjie met his stare, offering a quiet, firm nod. “No. It wasn't.”
“And that... is how you execute a calculated, step-by-step victory. Do you know why?” Ome leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a thrilling whisper. “Because on the very next step... you win.”
Wenjie’s heart pounded violently, as if a dormant fire had been awakened from the deep recesses of his subconscious. He lifted the glass and drained the remaining lavender mead in a single tilt, a triumphant smirk taking shape on his lips.
“So for my next move... I should begin dismantling the very foundation that supports him, shouldn't I?” he asked, testing the waters.
Ohme’s lips curved into a dark, knowing smile, his eyes steady and unwavering.
“Precisely... For your next move... you must play grander... and execute absolute annihilation.”
Credit: Edible flower beverage mixology designed by Flowers You Can Eat Thailand