Ohm meticulously placed the finely chopped chives, seasoned with a heavy dash of black pepper, onto the translucent fish slices. They were arranged delicately on a searing hot stone in the center of the pot. The crimson broth—a potent infusion of bird's eye chilies and hibiscus maple leaves—bubbled violently, sending up waves of heat that ignited the flickering flames beneath. Ohm took a rectangular iron press and slammed it down onto the fish.
SSSSSST!
White steam billowed up, carrying a pungent, mouth-watering aroma. Feng watched Ohm's every move as if under a hypnotic spell. The grand hot pot was hoisted and placed before him with theatrical flair. The fish, searing against the stone, emitted a savory fragrance, looking like a lonely rocky isle in the middle of a boiling, blood-red sea.
"Taste the flavor of risk, sir," Ohm said, gesturing toward the masterpiece.
Feng didn't hesitate. He used his chopsticks to place a piece of the grilled fish onto his spoon, ladled the thick red broth over it, and sent it into his mouth.
SHHHHHHH! The heat seared through his entire mouth. The first sensation to hit his tongue was a spice so fierce it felt like a direct flame, yet it carried a deep, hidden harmony. His face contorted from the scorching intensity that bordered on agony.
"Hot... it's so hot... but there's a tartness and spice from the red soup... and yet the grilled fish is so succulent and fragrant," he groaned, tears welling in his eyes. This taste—it felt like his life was being incinerated, only to be offered a drop of water in the final second.
Ohm's lip curled. His sharp gaze locked onto the red broth. "That heat... that is your impatience. The greed for short-cut profits without due diligence, resulting in the failure you've accumulated over the past three months."
Ohm stared deep into the eyes of his desperate client. "But that tartness, coated in the sting of the burn... that is the flavor of the Last Chance. The decision you must make before everything turns to ash."
The chef leaned across the counter, so close that Feng could smell the scorching spices. "If you want the liquidity to stop that Margin Call within forty-eight hours, you must be brave enough to strike where others aren't even looking."
The room fell into a dead silence as Ohm whispered, "In less than two days, the Indonesian government will suddenly announce an export ban on processed lithium ore."
Feng's eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets. His heart hammered against his ribs, caught completely off guard.
"Tomorrow morning... the moment the LME (London Metal Exchange) opens, you must throw every last cent of cash you have into Lithium Futures with maximum leverage," Ohm emphasized every word with absolute conviction. "Once the news is official, the price will soar over twenty percent within hours. That is your only way out of bankruptcy."
"But... what if it doesn't happen?" Feng asked, his voice a ragged tremor. His hand shook so violently he could barely hold the spoon.
Ohm flashed a cold, merciless grin. "Heh... if it fails, you're finished. Your assets will be liquidated until you don't have a single pair of underwear left. But this is the taste of the risk you must exchange for victory... Are you brave enough?"
Feng drew a deep, shuddering breath. The heat lingering in his throat ignited his primal investor instincts. If he didn't risk it now, he was already the walking dead. But if what this chef said was true... it was a jackpot that could transform a bankrupt man back into a king.
Feng nodded firmly. His dull eyes suddenly blazed with the fire of the greatest gamble of his life—an ultimatum staked on his soul and every shred of his future.