What's that, the scent of food that isn't completely infused with sugar? Count him in~

"Oh, bless you. A thousand blessings on you and your family," Shen Qingqiu declares, bellying up to the bar -- that is, the stall counter. He's already gotten a little tipsy; once he loosens his cultivation's control over his body, his naturally low tolerance is quick to kick in. He fans himself to cool his own face, asking, "Is any of that delicious-smelling steak ready?"