The Game of Life

Wang Hao had gone to bed early, and after Jiang Feng finished washing up, he too turned off the lights and went to bed, opened his attribute panel, and checked the recipe for Li Hongzhang’s Hodgepodge twice.

If it weren’t for the competition he was preparing for, Jiang Feng would definitely have practiced the dish right away.

This was exactly the kind of famous dish with endless plating possibilities, beautiful and delicious, and famously challenging, that Jiang Feng adored.

Having happily read over the preparation process twice, Jiang Feng reluctantly closed the recipe and opened his inventory.

A segment of Zhang Zhiyuan’s memory.

Jiang Feng felt he could hardly control his own hand.

How he wanted to click!

After heartily clicking ‘yes,’ Jiang Feng found himself in a common household. It was clear that although the inhabitants weren’t wealthy, they cherished their home; the warm furnishings were testament to this. The yellow flowers blooming in a plastic pot on the windowsill, the green Hanging Heart plant on the cupboard, the old but clean carpet, the wooden floor with its smattering of scuffs and scratches, toys scattered across it, and the children’s bedtime storybook on the coffee table, as well as the one-legged toy figure on the couch, all indicated that at least one child lived in this home.

Jiang Feng could move freely with the ability to walk through walls and doors and after surveying the place, he surprisingly found no one.

No one?

Jiang Feng was startled. What kind of peculiar memory was this—a memory of a house with no people in it?

After wandering around the house a bit more and still seeing no one, not even hearing a sound, Jiang Feng was puzzled just when he heard the sound of the door opening.

An old grandmother in her sixties, with slightly graying hair, came in carrying groceries and called out as she entered: “Zhiyuan, Zhiyuan, Grandma’s back!”

No response.

Zhang Zhiyuan’s grandmother placed the two large bags of groceries in the kitchen and began searching from room to room.

“Zhiyuan, Zhiyuan, Grandma will make you chicken for lunch. How about some braised chestnut chicken, sound good?”

Jiang Feng followed Zhang Zhiyuan’s grandmother and found a young version of Zhang Zhiyuan curled up under the bed like a caterpillar, stubbornly silent and refusing to speak.

“Zhiyuan, don’t lie there under the bed, the floor is so cold. If you get sick, Grandma will have to take you to the hospital, and the nurse will turn your butt into a sieve with their needle,” Zhang Zhiyuan’s grandmother threatened.

The threat of a butt turned into a sieve was clearly effective; Zhang Zhiyuan wriggled out from under the bed, not even as tall as Jiang Feng’s waist, but trying to look stern and said indignantly, “Comrade Cao Guixiang, I am very disappointed in you.”

Underneath the bed was all dust, which clung to Zhang Zhiyuan’s clothes, hands, and face. Cao Guixiang picked him up and said with a smile, “Cao Guixiang accepts the instructions of Comrade Zhang Zhiyuan.”

But Cao Guixiang did not give Zhang Zhiyuan a chance to give any instructions, instead carrying him to the washroom to clean his hands and face with a towel, and even changing him into a new set of clothes.

Jiang Feng thought to himself, a kid with only underpants on, tsk tsk.

Newly dressed but unaware that Jiang Feng had seen everything, Zhang Zhiyuan continued to puff up in outrage as he accused Cao Guixiang.

“Comrade Cao Guixiang, the day before yesterday I said I didn’t want to eat dry-fried beef ho fun, yet you still made it for me yesterday morning. I said it again last night, and you still made dry-fried beef ho fun this morning. You clearly agreed to take me out for dim sum!”

His words were forceful and backed by reason.

“It’s because your grandpa insisted on having dry-fried beef ho fun. Wait till your grandpa comes back and you can give him a piece of your mind,” Cao Guixiang deflected the blame successfully, turned and went to the kitchen to start cooking, with Zhang Zhiyuan following behind like a little tail, bouncing along.

“Mommy, Mommy, I want to eat General Tso’s Chicken!” Zhang Zhiyuan made his request.

Cao Guixiang’s hand paused while washing the vegetables and she asked, “Comrade Zhang Zhiyuan, what made you want to eat that today?”

“I just saw it on the TV, it looked so good, like amber, all shiny, and it looked delicious!” Zhang Zhiyuan lifted his head proudly, expecting praise, “The TV said that foreigners love it, so it must be good!”

“General Tso’s Chicken is sweet and sour with a spicy kick, even spicier than the chips you ate yesterday. How about I make you some braised chestnut chicken?” asked Cao Guixiang.

Zhang Zhiyuan hesitated but insisted, “Why can’t you just make me a non-spicy version?”

“Then it wouldn’t be General Tso’s Chicken,” said Cao Guixiang.

“No, no, I want to eat General Tso’s Chicken!” Zhang Zhiyuan was almost brought to tears by this teasing, and seeing that Cao Guixiang was focused on washing the vegetables and ignoring him, he tentatively tugged at her apron, looking like they should come to an arrangement.

“Just a bit of spice, okay? Just a little bit of spice, like this tiny bit.” Zhang Zhiyuan stretched out his little hand, trying hard to show just how little he meant.

Cao Guixiang shook the washed leeks to get rid of the water and took out a chicken that had been prepared. “Okay, just a tiny bit of spice. Comrade Zhang Zhiyuan, now please go help Comrade Cao Guixiang fetch a bag of starch, and then pick these green beans.”

“Comrade Zhang Zhiyuan accepts the instructions!” Zhang Zhiyuan was successfully sent away by Cao Guixiang.

General Tso’s chicken, also known as General Tso’s rooster, General’s chicken, and Zuo chicken, is a famous Han Chinese dish among Hunanese cuisine, primarily made with chicken and one of the most famous China cuisines in Americans’ perception. Although it is named after the famous southern Hunan general Zuo Zongtang, it’s in fact not closely related to him personally. The dish presented as Hunanese cuisine on the surface is fundamentally Huaiyang cuisine by nature, coupled with the cooking techniques from Lingnan, and the originator’s own thoughts and creativity. If really counted, it could even be considered Tan Family Cuisine.

The main ingredient for General Tso’s chicken is chicken thigh meat. Cao Guixiang placed the chicken on the cutting board, chopped off the two legs with two swift cuts, peeled the skin, removed the bones, tendons, and blood vessels with an incredibly smooth, fluent knifework that was a pleasure to watch.

Once done with deboning, she laid out the chicken meat to soak in water, allowing any remaining blood water in the meat to be leeched out. Cao Guixiang didn’t attend to it immediately, instead focusing on other parts of the chicken body. After everything was processed, she glanced at the chicken thighs in the bowl, changed the water, and turned to cut the vegetables.

To dice, to chop, to cut into segments, to slice—Cao Guixiang’s handling of various ingredients was highly professional, clean, and decisive, plainly indicating a master chef’s expertise. If every housewife could cook like Cao Guixiang, the chefs in the kitchens of restaurants nationwide would probably be squeezed out by the moms and grandmas at home, left with no meals to eat.

“Mama, mama, I finished picking them.” Zhang Zhiyuan ran into the kitchen carrying a basin of unevenly picked green beans.

“Yunyun, you did great!” Cao Guixiang praised, handing over the rice cooker pot. “Now, help mama wash the rice, fill it four and a half containers.”

Zhang Zhiyuan obediently grabbed the pot with both hands and went off to wash the rice.

After prepping the vegetables, Cao Guixiang set them aside and took the chicken thighs, which had soaked long enough to get rid of all blood water, to the cutting board. She cut shallow diagonal lines on them, then chopped them into uniform pieces. She cracked some eggs, keeping only the whites, and used salt, egg whites, and starch to marinate the chicken thighs lightly to flavor them.

In the meantime, Cao Guixiang started making a chestnut chicken stew.

Chestnut chicken stew is a common homestyle dish. As soon as she started heating oil in the pot, Zhang Zhiyuan’s grandfather returned home.

A man in his sixties or seventies with a very barren scalp tried to cover it all with an obstinate few strands of hair slicked with mousse onto his skin. Slightly overweight, with a quite prominent beer belly, he wore a black checkered shirt, cotton mid-length trousers, and sauntered into the house with an easygoing expression.

“Oh, Yunyun is helping mama wash the rice!” Grandpa Zhang Zhiyuan exclaimed in surprise. “You’re being so obedient today. It seems your mama is making you something delicious.”

“Comrade Zhang Chu, I am now formally informing you that tomorrow mama and I are going out for morning tea, and you won’t have any stir-fried beef ho fun!” Zhang Zhiyuan said solemnly while holding the pot.

“Alright, alright, Grandpa will go out to eat stir-fried beef ho fun,” Zhang Chu said as he rummaged through a cabinet for a wooden comb similar to a brush and began combing the few hairs on his head.

“Brush, brush, brush.”

He made his way to the kitchen while brushing.

“Oh, we’re having chestnut chicken stew today!” Zhang Chu poked his head in the kitchen to see what was being cooked. “How come there’s still some meat not put in yet?”

“Yunyun wants to eat General Tso’s chicken,” Cao Guixiang turned around, seeing Zhang Chu again combing his hair with that comb, and said disdainfully. “All you know is comb, really thinking those two strands of hair on your head will come out!”

“It’s useful, see, didn’t a few sprout out?” Zhang Chu bowed his head with the top of his scalp facing Cao Guixiang. “Look, a few have grown out, right? It’s still the daughter who cares for Dad, the comb she bought me actually promotes hair growth.”

“Enough already. I think she’s just like you, always blindly wasting money. Spending over a hundred on a comb and actually buying it for you. You don’t even see if those few hairs on your head are worth the price. Don’t linger around if you’re not going to help, just getting in the way,” Cao Guixiang said, ushering him out.

Zhang Chu stayed in the kitchen with a playful grin, refusing to leave, and began boasting to Cao Guixiang about his achievements of the day. “Today in the park, I battled Old Mr. Zheng for three hundred rounds, such a crowd spectating! Guess what happened in the end? Haha, Old Mr. Zheng was still checkmated by me. A defeated foe remains a defeated foe, no chance to turn the tables!”

“Two old chess nuts,” Cao Guixiang chuckled, starting to stew the chestnut chicken in a casserole dish. “Go wash that pot.”

“Okay!” Zhang Chu obediently began to wash the pot.

As Cao Guixiang began mixing the seasoning for General Tso’s chicken, Zhang Chu watched while washing the pot and asked, “Isn’t General Tso’s chicken your mentor’s signature dish? You know how to make it too?”

“No,” Cao Guixiang added a spoonful of white vinegar, “Have you forgotten when we left Beiping? How could I possibly know how to make it?”

“Then how are you going to make it?” Zhang Chu became curious.

“Just wing it. Yunyun can’t tell the difference with the authentic taste,” Cao Guixiang said. “Besides, the original dish is spicy, which he can’t eat. As long as it looks somewhat similar and tastes sweet and sour, it’ll do. Make sure to clean the pot better, keep an eye on it, and don’t let the water run so high, water isn’t free, you know. If it’s not cleaned properly, it will affect the flavor later.”

Jiang Feng, witnessing all this:…

The phrase “Just wing it” that Cao Guixiang said earlier reminded him of so much.

Back then, Mr. Jiang Jiankang did the same thing to trick him!