"Ah, here it comes!"
The Gourmet was usually a cool and collected man, but now he smiled along with the Paragon. He was in the wrong, after all.
He quickly brought out the glasses he'd prepared.
It was a standard large Burgundy glass, a one-piece crystal glass with thin walls.
The Wine Master glared at him. "Don't think I'll admit defeat just because the bottle's been opened.
This wine isn't for nothing.
I'm not going to haggle with you. Each of you will owe me a promise. If you agree, sit down and drink. If you don't, leave. I'll deal with him when I'm done. "
The Pauper smiled wryly. "You've already said it, how can I not agree?
I agree, I agree. "
The Wine Master's murderous aura was the strongest on him. Facing the Cosmagus, the Pauper didn't dare act cheap.
The Gourmet scowled. "I agree as well. Who asked me to be so greedy?
It's like this.
You see, I'm with the Seamstress now. It's only right for you to give her a gift. But you want a promise … "
[None] [Wrong]
The veins on the Wine Master's forehead bulged. "Who gives a wedding gift like Henri Jayer's Cros?
If you give it to me, I'll get married every day and be the groom every night. "
"Pfft!" The Seamstress burst out laughing. "Don't count me in!
I'm just here to watch. I'm not going to drink.
That's as much as a power gem. "
Lan Jue quickly interjected. "I agreed to do that thing with you a long time ago. Look, I'm the one who's always been loyal.
I didn't see this wine, and I didn't say no. I passed. "
The Wine Master snorted. "Seeing as you've dealt with the Crimson Pirates, and saved over fifty of our brethren.
You passed. "
The Gourmet chuckled.
"Alright, alright.
Don't make the atmosphere so tense, it'll affect your taste!
You only have one bottle, and if you don't taste it at its best it'll be a waste.
Anyway, we've never had it before. What's the point? "
The Wine Master's face softened. He took a seat. "Same as Romanee-Conti.
Pour it into the cup and drink the changes.
The only difference is that with Henri Jayer, you have to wait ten minutes between each sip. "
It was Lan Jue's first time hearing this. "Eh, why is that?"
The Wine Master glanced at him. "You'll know when you drink it."
He held the bottom of the bottle with one hand and personally poured four glasses of wine. Each glass contained the same amount of wine, and the wine was about two fingers high.
The wine came out of the bottle.
A faint fragrance also appeared, but it was not strong.
She even seemed to shrink slightly, like a shy little girl.
"Henri Jayer's wine is the ultimate treat for the taste buds. Wait two minutes and you'll be able to taste it."
The Wine Master's expression had returned to normal, but there was an unmistakable fervor in the depths of his eyes.
With regards to this bottle of Cros Parbat, how could he not have the mentality of a pilgrimage?
The Gourmet Hut was suddenly silent. The Seamstress sat off to the side with a smile on her face. She wasn't the least bit upset that she couldn't drink.
Everyone had their own pursuits, and she didn't have much love for wine. Even if she did, the Driver had been influenced to prefer single malt whisky over red wine.
The Driver had always felt he couldn't tell the difference between wine and its richness. He preferred the simple, masculine single malt.
Perhaps it was because his Discipline was Yin Lightning and Yin Flash, and he needed a balance of yin and yang.
In reality, the most expensive wine in the world had never been red wine. Henri Jayer's wine was the pinnacle, but over the course of human history, there was a vast gap between its value and single malt whisky's.
Single malt whisky was a strong spirit, and could be aged for a long time. It didn't require interdimensional technology.
Some of the older whiskies had been transported from the Former Era to the modern era. The mellowness of their history was terrifying.
Naturally, its value was also unparalleled.
To a true magpie, they are invaluable.
"That's enough."
The Wine Master's voice was low. He picked up his crystal glass by the stem, and gently swirled it.
Lan Jue, the Gourmet, and the Pauper followed suit, swirling their own glasses.
It was worth noting that the Pauper had been particularly clean these past two days. Although he still wore the Bessemer suit, he'd been thoroughly scrubbed. There was even a faint scent of freshness about him. Clearly he was trying to spoil the atmosphere.
Lan Jue lifted the glass to his nose and took a whiff. Suddenly his face lit up.
His eyes shone like stars, and his grip on the stem grew steadier.
The aroma of the Cros Parisien wasn't strong, nor was it rich and mellow. It was layered with peach blossoms, pear blossoms, apricot blossoms, lily blossoms, forget-me-nots, cornflowers, and tulips. It was soft and elegant, but contained a myriad of wonderful scents. Inhaling it was like walking into a garden, feeling the bloom of a hundred flowers.
If the red wine of Bordeaux was masculine, then the red chrysanthemum of Burgundy was feminine.
As for the aura of Croparia, it was extremely feminine. That kind of simple yet extremely rich fragrance was like the Upper Yuan ancient martial art, the Bone Melting Cotton Palm. It directly slapped into one's sense of smell, and then fused into every cell in one's body. Even one's emotions would melt because of it.
For the first time, Lan Jue was reluctant to drink. She gently swirled the glass, and sniffed it again. This time, it was as if her body and mind were immersed in the garden. She could see the flowers bloom, and the moon shining brightly in the sky.
The layers of the aroma were even stronger than before.
This feeling was hard to describe with words.
Finally, the Wine Master was the first to take a sip. It wasn't a small sip, but at least half of the wine was in his mouth. Good wine needed a good amount to be able to taste its full flavor.
The Wine Master's face froze, then Lan Jue, the Gourmet, and the Pauper followed.
The taste of Romanee-Conti seeped into your gums and branded itself into your consciousness.
The Cros Parle, on the other hand, was a completely different experience. The brick-red liquid looked very similar to Romanee-Conti, and as soon as it entered his mouth, his mind went blank.
There was only one way he could think of to describe it.
An atomic bomb!
Yes, the taste of the wine exploded in his mouth. It was completely different from the gentle, gentle, layered aroma of the wine. It had a terrifying explosive power. The explosive taste made Lan Jue's scalp prickle.
How was this possible?
How could a bottle of wine made from Pinot Noir have such a wonderful taste?
Lan Jue didn't even know how he swallowed it. All he knew was that the taste was deeply imprinted in his soul.
It was a feeling he'd never forget for the rest of his life.
The four of them set down their glasses, but didn't speak for a long time.
Lan Jue finally understood why the Wine Master had told them to wait at least ten minutes after taking a sip of Henri Jayer's Cros Parisien.
The taste of the Cros Parisien didn't leave.
The taste of red wine as it entered the mouth was called the foretaste. Swallowing was the middle taste, and the aftertaste left in the mouth was the aftertaste.
When judging whether a bottle of wine was good or not, these three tastes were very important. If the wine had all three, it would be a good bottle of red wine.
But … but this Cros Parisien didn't have any of those three flavors. It was an explosive aroma, like an atomic bomb!
It was an unparalleled penetrative force.
Lan Jue could feel the rich aroma wafting from his body as soon as he'd taken a sip of the wine.
The foretaste, the middle taste, and the aftertaste all melted into one. The taste didn't leave, but was imprinted on his taste buds, deeply rooted in his mouth.
After a full ten minutes, the smell gradually faded and disappeared.
Lan Jue licked his lips, as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. He couldn't find the words to describe the Cros Parisien. It was at this moment that he realized the words in his head were useless.
The five of them sat there for an entire morning, drinking only one bottle of wine.
When the wine was finished, the Wine Master carefully put away the cork and bottle. The Gourmet suddenly rose to his feet. "I'm sorry."
The Wine Master shot him a look. "No need to apologize.
Just remember what you owe me. "
The Gourmet sighed. "I always thought it was better to have a bottle of wine than to have a bottle of wine.
However, after drinking this bottle of Henri Jayer's Cros Parisienne, I realized I was wrong. A wine like this should be paired with something more perfect.
A perfect setting, a perfect table, a perfect atmosphere. Every detail should be perfect.
To drink it because of our curiosity and whimsy would be a blasphemy.
I owe you a favor, and I owe you a bottle of wine.
If I can find out where Henri Jayer's Cros Parisien is, I'll do whatever it takes to get it. I'll do whatever it takes to savor its beauty. "
The Wine Master's face broke into a small smile. "It's good that you have the heart.
In a few days, the Jewelry Master and I will search for the descendants of the Three Gods of Wine. Perhaps we'll have a chance.
While we're gone, I want you to stay in Skyfire Avenue. If there's a need, I'll call for you. "(To be continued …)