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No one dares call him Václav — everyone calls him Master Zheng.
He’s Czech by blood, but he grew up in the open-air markets of Chengdu.
While other kids played with spinning tops, he played with woks.

At the age of thirteen, he flipped a wok with his bare hands and made half the kitchen cry.
Thirty years later, he suddenly appeared in Prague and declared:
“I want the Czech people to know — fire isn’t just for roasting pork knuckle, it can dance in a wok.”

By the stove, Master Klopotník spins and leaps like he’s dancing.

He’s Master Zheng’s right-hand man, the soul of the kitchen’s rhythm.

A wok-flipping virtuoso, his favorite move is the “triple toss” — three flips per second, and every one full of flavor and fire.  

Škrkavec is the first smile and the last warmth.

Little Chen, as regulars call him, remembers every guest’s preference: which child is allergic to peanuts, who can’t stand cilantro, and who always wants “just a little extra spice.”

He’s not just a server — he’s the restaurant’s living memory. 

Each morning, before the sun rises, Lojzík grabs his fishing rod and walks into the mist.

“The only way to know if a fish is alive,” he says, “is to catch it yourself.”

Only after fishing does he head to the market. What he brings back isn’t just ingredients — it’s the tempo of today’s table.

In his tricycle, you’ll find the sound of water and the scent of vegetables.

Lojzík isn’t just a supplier — he’s the bridge between this restaurant and nature. 

Božetěch, the manager, speaks little, but every decision lands with precision.

He’s the invisible thread that connects the kitchen, the dining hall, and the guests.

Some say he’s like an old Chinese doctor — he sees what’s wrong at a glance.

Others call him a clockmaker — every gear in this place turns just right because of him.

He doesn’t give loud orders, yet everything flows, quietly, like water. 。