Witches in the Kitchen 2

In the distant past, the forefathers of the witch world usually needed the lives, honor or hearts and lungs of young men to do some great and powerful spells. Given the shallowness of all the spells we can use now, it naturally doesn't cost that much. I hurriedly turned to the last page of the magic recipe book left by my grandmother, and found an extremely insignificant line of small print notes. Want to play these recipes to the limit, but also need a man who smells just right with the recitation of the incantation. Another note: Once the witch who cast the spell sheds tears for it, the magic will fail. Unfortunately, the last page was chewed out by the rats hiding in the kitchen, and the simple incantation is no longer available. This problem made me agonize for a full minute, the next second, I dash decided, or first go to find the man who smells just right, as for what the spell is, take your time to test it. But there are so many young men who show their faces in my life every day, which one should it be? I had no choice but to invite them one after another to this tiny apartment for dinner, birthdays, job changes, pay raises, lottery wins, all sorts of excuses, and each time I had to bring along a group of friends to make it look like a big dinner party, lest my secret as a witch be revealed. Witches and young men are most likely to reveal themselves when they are alone. I don't know if that's true or not, but it's been around for thousands of years, so it's better to be careful. As for the consequences of being seen as a witch, I'm not interested in knowing. *** In feast after feast, my spells worked and didn't work, sometimes stunningly, sometimes darkly. The young men, who came many times, said a lot of things, in order to find out exactly which words had worked, I even opened the data processing software to do a correlation analysis of everything. So often a bunch of people in the living room, shouting, laughing and playing, but I was bored in the kitchen, according to the recipe left by my grandmother, in the pot stove precise magic, while the use of modern technology, computer software to continue my data analysis. But no matter how I deduced it, it didn't look like the spell I wanted. What's even more annoying is the reckless young men who are always trying to find ways to peek into my kitchen, my territory. You look good when you cook. Some of them say so. But I sneered in my heart and shooed all the prying eyes out of the kitchen. They all misunderstood, I am neither beautiful nor good at cooking, this is just a self-seeking witch in the spell experiment. And so the days passed, most of the dishes remained uneventful, no different from before, and the small apartment was filled with the teasing and laughter of my friends. Only a very few times, I will gradually narrow the scope of the feast, as far as possible to exclude interfering items. But no, this man smelled too sour, that man was too bitter, and what a good cook can tell by moving her nostrils, a good witch can do just as well. Once or twice so rare, I even thought I had stepped on the threshold of success, but the rotten smell of the next dish pulled me out of my happy visions again. Neither the smell nor the spell met my expectations. *** Just when I was about to give up, another young man barged into my kitchen. And by mistake opened a jar of magical ingredients disguised as a can of Swedish herring, containing bat blood, fly feet, cockroach droppings, and 10,000 concentrated, powerful stink spells.