The Game of Life

He watched as the diluted starch mixed with the broth in the pot to make a thin slurry, and after drizzling with chicken fat, the final consistency was surprisingly thick.

Chicken fat…

Jiang Feng fell into deep thought.

He felt this might be a method, and a completely new one at that, different from Sun Guanyun’s approach, but it might yield the same or even better results.

He couldn’t wait to try it out.

Jiang Feng took out his phone and called Wu Minqi.

“Hello, Qiqi, I’ve thought of a way to make the gravy for Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, where are you now? Have you come back? If you have, let’s discuss it together,” he said eagerly as soon as the call connected.

“I’m still at Ji Yue’s place, she’s gone out to get a package and hasn’t returned yet,” replied Wu Minqi. “What method have you thought of?”

“First use the starch to make a thin slurry, then drizzle chicken fat into it,” Jiang Feng said.

“Chicken fat?”

“Yes, chicken fat.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment before Wu Minqi asked, “Wouldn’t the chicken fat disrupt the overall flavor?”

“That’s why I wanted to discuss it with you, we’ve never tried using chicken fat before, and we don’t know what it would taste like,” said Jiang Feng.

“It’s a pity it’s too late now, and we don’t have any on hand, huh? Xue, did you say you have pigeons here?”

Jiang Feng heard Ji Xue’s voice on the other end of the phone, “But they aren’t squab, Ji Yue bought them from the market yesterday morning. She was planning to not eat meals and just have Soup with Chinese Caterpillar Fungus and Pigeon yesterday, but she ended up going out to eat, so she never made it. The pigeons are still on the balcony, alive.”

Ji Yue got the rather unflattering nickname “Sister Yue” because she was considered older among the young and beautiful service staff around 20 years old. Those younger than Ji Yue in the kitchen also followed suit in calling her that.

“But we don’t have chicken fat either,” said Wu Minqi.

“My uncle’s house might have some; I’ll go check and call you back later,” after finishing his sentence, Jiang Feng headed straight to Jiang Jianguo’s house.

There were a few unanimously acknowledged mysteries in the Jiang Family, such as, when would Jiang Junqing and Jiang Junlian, the two sisters, improve their grades?

When could Jiang Feng’s physique reach the family’s average level?

Who had less hair, Jiang Zaidi or Jiang Shoucheng?

What exactly was in the aunt’s fridge?

Jiang Feng’s aunt was a rather mysterious figure.

As the Jiang family’s eldest daughter-in-law, she was an absolutely competent sister-in-law and daughter-in-law, filial to the old folks, harmonious with her peers, and faultless in her dealings with others. Other than her obsession with health and weight loss, which caused Jiang Jianguo and Jiang Zaidi no small amount of distress, she was undoubtedly an exceptional person.

She was obsessed with losing weight, and every year she claimed she didn’t slim down but instead gained weight; yet every year, everyone felt she looked no different, wondering where exactly she had put on the weight.

She loved health preservation, always the top rank in the number of articles shared in her social circle. It was also because of her passion for health that their family’s refrigerator was always stocked with everything—various vegetables, meats, medicinal materials, spices, fruits, spanning sea, land, and air, all-encompassing.

Whether it was lard, chicken fat, peanut oil, olive oil, soybean oil, vegetable oil, corn oil, or sesame oil, the aunt had them all.

There was nothing you could think of that she didn’t already have.

Jiang Jianguo’s house was on the floor below, and when Jiang Feng knocked on the door, Jiang Jianguo was preparing a slimming meal for the aunt.

“Feng, what’s up?” asked the aunt from inside the house, dressed in sportswear as if she was ready to exercise in the fitness room.

“Aunt, I’ve come to borrow some chicken fat,” said Jiang Feng.

“Oh, help yourself to it in the kitchen. It’s in the white square container on the second shelf of the fridge,” said the aunt, who was preparing to leave and looking for her shoes.

In the kitchen, Jiang Jianguo was meticulously weighing ingredients for the aunt’s slimming meal with a precision scale—chicken breast, chicken breast, and more chicken breast.

“Feng, what do you need the chicken fat for?” asked Jiang Jianguo.

“I want to try using it to make the gravy for Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, to see whether it works,” Jiang Feng explained.

“Chicken fat?” Jiang Jianguo pondered a moment. He had not heard of using chicken fat for making gravy before, “Chicken fat with pigeon? It might just work.”

Jiang Feng opened the refrigerator and quickly found the white square box his great-aunt had mentioned. He took out the box and was ready to leave.

“Great Uncle, Great Aunt, I’m leaving now!” Jiang Feng said.

“Go ahead,” Jiang Jianguo said cheerfully, shouting loudly, “Wife, are you really not going to eat? Isn’t it bad to eat just chicken breast and fruit?”

“I’m not eating!”

The staff dormitory where Ji Yue and Ji Xue lived was two floors below Jiang Jianguo’s place, Jiang Feng took the stairs and hurried down in a minute.

Ji Yue hadn’t returned from picking up a delivery, and Ji Xue had already caught the pigeon on the balcony and was holding it in the kitchen, waiting for Jiang Feng to arrive.

“Do we kill it now?” Ji Xue asked.

“I’ll do it; this pigeon needs to be deboned entirely. We have to use its bones to make broth,” Jiang Feng said, taking the pigeon from Ji Xue’s hands.

A swift end with one strike.

He plucked the feathers skillfully, deboned the pigeon in no time, and soon enough, there was a flattened pigeon and the fine bones Jiang Feng had just removed on the cutting board.

“Should we call Sun Jikai over?” Wu Minqi asked.

Jiang Feng snapped out of his daze. He had felt from the beginning that someone was missing but couldn’t put his finger on who. It wasn’t until Wu Minqi’s reminder that he realized they had forgotten to tell Sun Jikai.

Jiang Feng nodded, and Wu Minqi called Sun Jikai to come over.

The pigeon soup in the pot needed time to simmer; looking at the pigeon on the cutting board, Jiang Feng asked Ji Xue, “Since the pigeon is already killed, how about we just stew the Soup with Chinese Caterpillar Fungus and Pigeon?”

Ji Xue couldn’t make the decision for Ji Yue: “Let’s wait for Sister Yue to come back; I don’t know if she wants to drink the Soup with Chinese Caterpillar Fungus and Pigeon tonight.”

“When did she go to get the delivery?”

Ji Xue thought for a moment and glanced at the clock on the wall: “About half an hour ago, I think.”

Jiang Feng found it strange—the delivery point wasn’t far from their building, and a round trip took at most 20 minutes. Ji Yue had been gone for half an hour and hadn’t returned. If it weren’t for her unmatched determination to lose weight this time, he would have suspected that Ji Yue had sneaked off to the east gate for barbecue.

Speak of the devil; as Jiang Feng considered whether to call Ji Yue, she arrived at the door.

“Xue, open the door! I’m almost dead; I can’t open the door, hurry up!” Ji Yue gasped from outside.

When the door opened, there were two big boxes at the entrance.

“Help me with this, Qiqi—oh, Jiang Feng is here too; please help me. I really can’t carry it anymore; I’m going to die; I almost died on the way here,” Ji Yue was so tired her speech was becoming incoherent.

Jiang Feng lifted the boxes, which were indeed quite heavy, and felt bad for Ji Yue having to carry them so far from the delivery point.

“What’s this? It’s so heavy,” Jiang Feng asked.

“My mom sent peaches; one box is 20 pounds, two boxes make 40.1 almost lost my life carrying them all the way here,” Ji Yue said, gasping for air as she sat on the couch, “My delicate hands, used for painting, almost broke under the weight of these two boxes of peaches.”

“You should take some peaches back with you too. The peaches from my place are really tasty; my mom bought them on the street,” Ji Yue said.

“Huh?”

“We don’t grow them; my mom definitely bought them from the street,” Ji Yue said, “Don’t worry, even though my mom buys them from the street, she buys the tastiest ones.”

“Hey, what are you guys cooking?” Ji Yue smelled something from the kitchen.

Ever since she started dieting, her sense of smell had become exceptionally sharp; she could smell whatever others were eating.

“Oh, right. I just thought of a new recipe for Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon, so I borrowed the pigeon you bought yesterday. Do you want to eat now? If you do, I’ll stew it with the fungus and the pigeon. If not, I’ll make you a fresh Soup with Chinese Caterpillar Fungus and Pigeon some other day,” Jiang Feng said.

“Soup with Chinese Caterpillar Fungus and Pigeon, eh.” Ji Yue pursed her lips, clearly longing for it, but the rationality of her diet triumphed over the desire to eat the dish.

“No eating, no eating, you don’t have to give me back the pigeon either; just take it and stew it yourself. I’ll also give you the caterpillar fungus I bought yesterday,” Ji Yue decisively refused.

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