The Voice That Silenced the Room
Her voice rang out — calm and melodic.
“尊敬的先生们，晚上好。请允许我为您介绍今晚的特色菜单——”
“Good evening, gentlemen. Allow me to introduce tonight’s special menu.”
Even those who didn’t speak Chinese could feel the elegance in her tone.
“First, Mapo Tofu — prepared in authentic Sichuan style with aged Pixian chili paste. The blend of pepper and spice reflects the balance between heat and harmony.”
Yuki Sato, one of the investors, leaned forward. “Her pronunciation is flawless,” he whispered. “Better than many natives.”
Jasmine continued smoothly, describing Peking Duck, steamed fish, and lotus buns — detailing their cultural origins, preparation, and symbolism. Then she shifted seamlessly into Cantonese, explaining how Hong Kong chefs interpreted the same dishes differently.
Yuki slammed his hand on the table. “Perfect Cantonese!”
Phones lifted. The audience went silent except for her clear, rhythmic voice.
Richard’s smile faltered. “This must be rehearsed,” he muttered.
Jasmine met his gaze. “Would you prefer I continue in Beijing dialect, Mr. Blackwood? Or Taiwanese Mandarin?”
This time, the laughter was genuine — but not for him.
Richard stammered, “Who… who are you?”
