The Game of Life

Jiang Feng spent another afternoon simmering the tender juice.

The entire kitchen was filled with the sweet aroma of white sugar, and anyone who didn’t know better might think it was a sugar factory. The result was quite evident, the sugar was gone.

White sugar, granulated sugar, rock sugar—all depleted. Mrs. Jiang’s stockpiled supplies from the Singles’ Day sale were exhausted by Jiang Feng in just one day. Everyone, including Mrs. Jiang, had no objections to this. After all, to study cooking and practice one’s culinary skills, some wasting of ingredients is necessary, especially during the New Year preparations. If it had been any other time of the year, Jiang Jiankang would have made do with the product of Jiang Feng’s efforts and still could have used it to cook dishes to sell, even if they had to be offered at a discount.

For dinner, they had leftovers from lunch along with dumplings, and there was no time to cook the Nine Turns Intestine. Fortunately, the tender juice could last for a few days, so it wasn’t a waste of Jiang Weiming’s efforts.

Sir had been busy in the kitchen all afternoon and it was certainly hard work. Everyone was content with dumplings for dinner, especially when paired with the pickled radish that Jiang Weiming had prepared. The meal was truly enjoyable.

After dinner, Sir and Jiang Weiming, as usual, went out for a walk. Everyone else did their own thing—Jiang Zaidi returned to his room to revise his draft for the twenty-sixth time. Just yesterday, he was ranting about quitting, but today, after the client paid another installment in addition to the deposit, he obediently started revising despite the risk of going bald.

Having simmered sugar all day, Jiang Feng felt a hint of sweetness in everything he smelled. He moved a chair out into the yard to sit by the fire pit and play with his phone when he suddenly heard a familiar ringtone coming from the kitchen.

“A group of Red Army soldiers has been sent out…”

Jiang Weiming’s phone was ringing.

Jiang Feng went inside and saw the caller ID showed Jiang Yanlu, his troublesome great-uncle.

“Hello, this is Jiang Feng. Granduncle Weiming is out for a walk right now. Please call back later,” Jiang Feng answered the phone.

“I was actually looking for you. I guessed my dad would be out and not carrying his phone, which is why I called,” Jiang Yanlu said calmly on the other end.

“Looking for me?”

“Yes, Feng, may I call you that? I need your current address,” Jiang Yanlu sounded a bit anxious.

“The address?” Jiang Feng was even more surprised.

“I… I’m planning to spend the New Year with my dad,” Jiang Yanlu said. “Since my father doesn’t want to come back, we’ll go there. I’ll sort out my own accommodation and food. I just want to… be with my dad, at least to see the New Year in together, and preferably to have the New Year’s Eve dinner together.”

“If you really want to come, you’ll have to figure out your own lodging, but don’t worry about the food. Joining us is just a matter of a few extra bowls and pairs of chopsticks. Here’s what we’ll do—you give me your number, and I’ll text you the address,” Jiang Feng said. If Jiang Weiming had truly hardened his heart against this son, then they’ll provide just the meal and not concern themselves with the details.

“Thankyou,” said Jiang Yanlu. “Please don’t tell my dad that I asked for the address.”

“Sure,” Jiang Feng promised convincingly.

As soon as Jiang Weiming returned, Jiang Feng recounted the conversation to him just as it happened, and very tactfully went inside right after.

“Brother Weiguo, that’s good news!” Jiang Jianguo exclaimed.

“Him? He can’t come,” Jiang Weiming said with a wry smile. “My eldest son, even if he asked Feng for the address, will not show up.”

The next day, Jiang Jiankang went to town to buy 30 pounds of white sugar for Jiang Feng, enough for him to simmer to his heart’s content. Jiang Feng didn’t spend all day simmering sugar like the previous day; instead, he practiced for half the day, and by the time the evening came, it was suddenly already the twenty-ninth of the lunar calendar.

In these past days, nearly every household’s pigpen in the village had emptied out, and the air was filled with the spirit of the New Year. Once outside, one was greeted with a sea of red.

Red lanterns, red couplets, and everyone, both old and young, dressed in red— this village was made up mostly of people from elsewhere, and their conversations could bring together dialects from seven or eight different provinces. There was no ancestral hall and no special New Year’s traditions; the main purpose of the celebration was simply to enjoy the fun and come together as one big family, doing whatever made them happy.

By the twenty-ninth, Jiang Yanlu had not appeared, seemingly confirming Jiang Weiming’s words that even asking for the address, he wouldn’t come.

These past few days, Jiang Weiming had been somewhat downcast. Jiang Feng could tell that he wanted to see Jiang Yanlu.

Alas, many things don’t turn out the way one wishes.

Sir decided that day whose house was slaughtering a pig, he’d head there to ask for the pork intestines. Jiang Jianguo and Jiang Jiankang even expanded their business to the neighboring village, and while they were there, they also took things like pork tails and ears to marinate. They didn’t take them for free, though; sauerkraut with plain boiled pork was stewed in a big pot, and once it was ready, just bringing over a bowl was enough.

Jiang Jiandang, Jiang Jianshe, and Jiang Jianye headed out early in the morning to scour the town’s market. They wouldn’t let a pig’s large intestine pass by and were determined to gather enough for a dish of Nine Turns Intestine.

Sir instructed Jiang Feng to go pull up some spring onions from the vegetable patch. Before he even reached the patch, Jiang Feng was stopped by a scholarly-looking middle-aged man in his early fifties.

“Young man, hello. May I ask if you know where Jiang Yuanchao lives?” the middle-aged man asked.

It took Jiang Feng a moment to realize that Jiang Yuanchao was actually Jiang Weiming. He was slightly taken aback. Could it be that Jiang Yanlu actually came?

But he didn’t look the right age!

” He is my granduncle Weiming and he lives at our house. May I know why you’re looking for him?” Jiang Feng asked.

“What a coincidence, I am his son, my name is Jiang Yong. I’ve come to talk to him about something,” Jiang Yong said, surprised by the coincidence. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to show me the way?”

“Ah? Sure, just a moment, I’ll go pull up a couple of spring onions.” As Jiang Feng went to pull the onions, he pondered—Jiang Yanlu said he would come, but he didn’t, and here was Jiang Weiming’s youngest son, the one from Magic City who hadn’t visited for over a decade due to a heartache, popping up instead.

This development…

Was quite puzzling!

After pulling up the onions, Jiang Feng led Jiang Yong back to the house. Once they reached the doorstep, Jiang Yong stopped.

“I’d rather not go in. Could you please just let him know I’m here? If he’s willing to come out, great; if not, please just let me know,” Jiang Yong said.

Jiang Feng, not fully understanding their family’s complex father-son relationship, went in to pass on the message.

When Jiang Weiming heard that Jiang Yong was here, he stood stupefied for a long time before mustering the courage to go outside.

Jiang Weiming, looking at his youngest son whom he hadn’t seen in over a decade, felt a mix of emotions. He had thought he would never see Jiang Yong again in his lifetime, but unexpectedly, his son had taken the initiative to come to him.

“You…”

“My older brother called me a few days ago,” Jiang Yong interrupted Jiang Weiming, “He rambled on about many things, about how he had wronged you over the years. I didn’t care to listen and didn’t want to, but he told me you found my Uncle Qi, and I thought as a relative, I should at least come and see you.”

“I am here to tell you that Ran is getting married, the wedding is in May, whether you attend as his grandfather is up to you,” Jiang Yong said.

It was true that Jiang Yanlu had called him, saying things he found laughable. His father had favored his oldest son all his life, but now that he was old, it ended up the other way around. Jiang Yanlu was getting senile with age. While his son suppressed him from coming over, he sent his youngest son, who hadn’t returned home in over a decade, in his stead.

Jiang Yong himself didn’t understand why he had actually taken note of the address Jiang Yanlu gave and bought a plane ticket to come here.

Jiang Yong didn’t even want to admit to himself that he somewhat wanted to see Jiang Weiming.

“I just got off work from the magazine yesterday. I’ll visit Uncle Qi to say hello, and after that, I’ll leave. I need to get back for New Year’s Eve,” Jiang Yong said.

“When is your flight booked?” Jiang Weiming asked.

“Today, at dawn,” Jiang Yong answered.

“No rush, now that you’re here, let me cook a dish for you and then you can go,” Jiang Weiming sighed.

He walked back into the house leisurely.

Jiang Yong, not understanding the situation, still followed him inside.

*The group number has changed, everyone forget Demon Fairy Castle! ‘ (‘~