The Man Who Lost Salt

It would not burn. The ink shone like a wound. [Breach: You declined to use a diner's desire for your own gain.] [Payment: one taste memory you cherish most.] Before Shen could understand, the fragrance of lard retreated from the kitchen. He put a dried shrimp in his mouth and found only texture and heat. His father's scallion noodles, the clear noodle soup his mother had wanted when she was ill, the ruined first pot of stock from the day he opened alone—all of it was wiped smooth like sand under a tide. He gripped the counter, white-faced. “What's wrong?” Lin asked. “I... can't taste it.” The hearing request went out that day. Gu's team denied everything and silenced Night Voyage's online accounts with a trademark-infringement notice.