The Game of Life

As soon as Sun Jikai entered the kitchen, he saw the three deboned pigeons lying flat on the plates like deflated balloons.

Sun Jikai was aware that Sun Guanyun had taught Jiang Feng how to make Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, but he had never taken it seriously and didn’t believe that Jiang Feng could learn it after being taught just once.

If it were that easy to learn, he would have mastered it long ago.

However, seeing Jiang Feng’s work today, Sun Jikai realized his knifework was actually quite good, even better than he had expected.

“Here, there, and over there, I’ve already looked and your cufflinks aren’t there. You should look again yourself, or think about whether you may have dropped them somewhere else.” Ji Yue, holding a juicy, sweet-and-sour tomato she had bitten into twice with her right hand, took the milk tea from Sun Jikai with her left hand, and gestured with her eyes to the places where she looked, “Ah, I forgot to tell you to get less sugar for me, I’ve been dieting recently!”

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but glance at her, expressing his amusement with a “hehe.”

Ever since Ji Yue had entered the kitchen, she hadn’t stopped eating.

Cucumbers, tomatoes, white radishes, and leftovers from the cold dish counter like sliced watermelon, pineapple, and other fruits—she didn’t miss a single one. Mrs. Wang Xiulian also came in and helped her by eating two slices of watermelon, four pieces of pineapple, and seven cherry tomatoes.

The two justified their actions by insisting that eating fruits wouldn’t lead to weight gain, but they never skipped a meal.

Sun Jikai searched all the places again where Ji Yue had looked, but still found nothing. While Sun Jikai was looking for the cufflinks, Jiang Feng had finished mixing his filling, and the first batch of Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon was almost ready to come out of the pot.

After setting aside the mixed filling, Jiang Feng went to check on the broth made from pigeon bones in another pot, which was also nearly done—it was time to start preparing the starch mixture for thickening.

This was a crucial step in making the Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, Sun Jikai originally wanted to check the changing room in case he had knocked the cufflinks off there, but seeing Jiang Feng preparing the starch mixture, he stopped to watch his technique.

“That’s not right, my grandfather’s starch mixture wasn’t that thick. His looked thick but when scooped with a spoon, it would flow down like water,” Sun Jikai said.

Looked thick?

Jiang Feng thought for a moment and realized he couldn’t remember clearly.

Sun Guanyun had only made it once, and unlike studying a game’s recipe, Jiang Feng couldn’t watch the preparation process over and over, so he had forgotten many details that Sun Guanyun hadn’t even mentioned.

Jiang Feng hesitated for a moment, his movements slowing. But the starch mixture in the pot was already like this, and there was no way to fix it; he had to serve it as it was.

Sun Jikai stood by, watching in silence, until Jiang Feng finished the dish and served the Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon. Only then did his expression change.

It was a mix of regret and relief; regret that Jiang Feng had not mastered the essence of Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, and relief that he hadn’t.

Ji Yue looked at the Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon in front of her and compared it with the ones Jiang Feng had made before, finally assessing her stomach capacity and making up her mind.

“I’m going to get Qi Rou to have a taste,” Ji Yue said, expressing her role as Qj Rou’s boss. Naturally, she should look after her little brother and get him some delicious food.

Qi Rou, who hadn’t seen much of the world, was astonished after one bite, exclaiming, “This is so delicious! Feng, are you testing out a new dish?”

“Sort of,” Jiang Feng said, beginning to make the next batch of starch mixture.

Because there were so many chefs named Jiang in the kitchen, everyone differentiated their titles by age; those younger than Jiang Feng called him Feng, those older called him Master Jiang, Jiang Jiankang was referred to as Master Jiang, and the two elders were collectively known as Head Chef or Old Master Jiang.

Sun Jikai seemed spellbound, completely forgetting he was there to look for his cufflinks and continued to observe Jiang Feng’s movements.

“It’s still not right,” Sun Jikai said.

“I know, but… I can’t make that kind of starch mixture,” Jiang Feng said, stepping aside and pointing to the last pot of pigeon broth, “Why don’t you give it a try?”

“Let’s give it a try,” Sun Jikai responded and went to the dressing room to change.

Then, he saw his cufflinks under his own locker.

Sun Jikai had changed his clothes and found his cufflinks, yet he didn’t move, standing in front of his locker, deep in thought.

It had been a long time since he had made Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon.

When was the last time?

Three years ago?

Was it four years ago?

Before going abroad to study, he had spent some time learning to make the Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon under the mentorship of Sun Guanyun. After going abroad to focus on his studies, his parents also kept hinting through phone calls that his second uncle’s family had ill intentions, telling him to study hard and return to help run Jubao Building.

In those years at Wharton, Sun Jikai barely even touched a kitchen knife.

After his return as a graduate, Sun Guanyun pushed him to practice for two years, putting a lot of effort into guiding his culinary skills. But by then, Sun Jikai¹ s mind was no longer on cooking; he was obsessed with overturning his second uncle’s family and exposing his uncle’s hypocritical nature.

Upon reflection, going to Wharton seemed like a dividing line. Before Wharton, Sun Jikai’s focus in life was on cooking; after Wharton, his focus shifted to defeating his second uncle’s family, with the plot turning from an inspiring and delicious “Little Chinese Chef” to a melodramatic and vulgar battle for family assets.

Sun Jikai returned to the kitchen.

Jiang Feng was preparing the second batch of Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, while Ji Yue had already started eating it with a spoon.

Sun Jikai was suited up and ready to go, his eyes resolute. After reflecting for so long in the changing room, he had made up his mind.

Today was the day he, Sun Jikai, would return to being himself, the day he would emerge from the lowest point of his life, the day he would prove himself, the day he would go from thirty years in Hedong to thirty years in Hexi!

Three minutes later—

Sun Jikai gloriously crashed and burned.

Looking at the sauce Sun Jikai had made, Jiang Feng had only one thought.

You talk a good game, but how come what you make isn’t even as good as mine?

A king’s face, but the rank is still bronze.

“This…” Sun Jikai felt somewhat embarrassed.

“You…” Jiang Feng felt that Sun Jikai was somewhat embarrassed.

“You two…” Ji Yue had already finished a portion of Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon and sensed that the atmosphere between Jiang Feng and Sun Jikai was somewhat awkward.

“You two might as well cook together, I remember a few days ago Qiqi and Xue from your family were also studying dishes together. I think both of your cooking are…”

Not that great.

Chickens pecking at each other.

The bronze struggle.

Jiang Feng agreed with Ji Yue; Sun Jikai was a theoretical master, and it was clear from the way he made the sauce that he hadn’t made the Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon for a long time, his practical skills falling short of Jiang Feng’s.

But having seen Sun Guanyun personally make it numerous times, if they can’t do it with their hands, their mouths could suggest improvements. If the two of them could study together, maybe they really could make a breakthrough.

Now it was up to Sun Jikai to decide whether he was willing or not.

This was their Jubao Building’s dish, and the creator was his grandfather; it was a dish of the Sun family. Even if he was unwilling to share, it would be understandable.

Sun Jikai hesitated.

If it were anyone else, he certainly would not agree, he wouldn’t even speak up when he saw them cooking, not a single word.

But the Jiang family members were different, or it could be said, Taifeng Building and Jubao Building were different.

The chefs at Jubao Building each had their own secret skills, with everyone liking to keep one hand hidden, even from their own apprentices. They worked on their dishes as if defending against thieves. This was quite common; no one wanted their craft learned by others and risk losing their livelihood, though under Sun Guanyun’s leadership this trend was particularly prevalent at Jubao Building.

But Taifeng Building was different.

The two elderly gentlemen never held back, whether it was Jiang Weiming teaching Jiang Weisheng, or their guidance to Jiang Feng, they did not mind others watching by the side. They also didn’t hesitate to coach other chefs. Even for unique skills like deep-frying in caramelized oil, which was a signature of the Jiang family, Jiang Weiming did not mind others learning it.

It was as if they were afraid that others wouldn’t learn, afraid they wouldn’t have time to teach, afraid that time was slipping away too quickly for them to pass on their lifelong knowledge to the next generation.

It was a utopia-like restaurant, so ideal that it even seemed a bit fantastical, making everything that seemed unreasonable at Jubao Building appear reasonable here.

‘Alright, let’s do it together,” Sun Jikai said.