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Cooking in a big pot is a tiring task.

As a famously elite school in Alan City, Morning Wind Primary School’s kitchen usually maintains a stable staff of around 30, but today there were only three. Jiang Feng, Wu Minqi, Liu Qian, and Mr. Chen counted as one, while the other three teachers were tasked with keeping a dozen little creatures from causing trouble in the kitchen, a very reasonable division of labor.

Just dealing with the ingredients was a troublesome affair.

Over a hundred primary students, around fifty elderly people, dozens of teachers, and dozens of university student volunteers—all four demographics had different dietary needs. The primary students were picky, the elderly couldn’t handle too much oil and salt, but the teachers and volunteers were easy to please, they had to eat whatever was made.

“This morning I noticed that the old folks didn’t drink their milk, Liu Qian suddenly spoke up while humming a self-composed tune and peeling potatoes, “Little pak choi is yellow in the ground, little potatoes also have a yellow pound.”

“Most elderly people are a bit lactose intolerant, drinking it might upset their stomachs,” Wu Minqi said, head down slicing potatoes, “1’11 soak some soybeans later and cook soybean pork rib soup. The ribs in the cold storage looked pretty fresh.”

“I don’t like soybeans! I want seaweed egg soup!!” protested a little girl who had been taught by Mr. Zhou to quietly watch her older siblings cook.

“I want tomato and egg soup!”

“I want, I want kelp and pork rib soup!”

“I also want to eat egg custard.”

I!J II

As soon as these words were spoken, the little creatures all began to chime in. With a thousand readers comes a thousand Hamlets, and a couple of hundred little creatures call for a couple of hundred soups and four cooks wishing for death.

“What… what do we do?” Liu Qian was a bit dazed by the children s vocal onslaught.

“Just stew everything,” Jiang Feng said nonchalantly, not really minding, I just checked, we have plenty of cooking equipment, 9 stoves—seven for soup and two for stir-frying should be enough.”

“Soybean pork rib soup, radish pork rib soup, kelp pork rib soup, crucian carp tofu soup,” Wu Minqi counted the soups that needed to be cooked.

“I want Chinese yam pork rib soup,” Liu Qian, completely without the sense of helping in the kitchen, started making requests.

“Egg meatball soup, spicy soup, then add seaweed egg soup and tomato egg soup at the end, that should do it,” Jiang Feng added, recalling a spicy soup recipe he had seen before in Jiang Weiguo’s memory and after giving it some thought, he managed to make an impressive rendition.

“As for the dishes, children like sweet and tangy flavors, pineapple sweet and sour pork, fish-fragrant shredded pork, then I’ll make a boiled fish and spicy diced chicken,” Wu Minqi said.

“Elderly people need relatively light dishes, smooth egg shrimp, stir-fried vegetables, sauteed shredded potatoes, stir-fried three julienne and I’ll also make 60 pickled vegetable dumplings, to remember the bitterness and think of the sweetness,” Jiang Feng said, not forgetting the theme of the volunteer event.

“9 dishes and 9 soups?” Mr. Chen could hardly believe his ears, “Jiang and Wu, isn’t that a bit too much? We probably can’t finish all that.”

“No problem,” Jiang Feng and Wu Minqi said in unison.

If the two had anything in common when it came to cooking, it probably was their speed.

Jiang Feng’s family ran a small stir-fry diner, straightforward with a high volume of customers, and Jiang Feng had been helping in the kitchen since a young age, whether it was washing vegetables, cutting, serving dishes or delivering takeouts, the core principle was to be quick. Wu Minqi had also been assisting in the kitchen from a young age, starting as a kitchen hand until now, lagging a step could lead to scolding, having been yelled at from when her grandfather was the head chef to when her father took over. Being fast in the kitchen was almost embedded in her bones.

“By the way, Mr. Chen, do we have any fresh seasonal vegetables here?” Jiang Feng had gone to the storehouse earlier and didn’t see much in the way of green veggies.

“Yes, yes, how about sweet potato shoots and vines? There’s off-season sweet potato in the greenhouse behind,” Mr. Chen suggested.

Jiang Feng: (°JJ^o=^ofl°)

Just what divine being is Morning Wind Primary School’s greenhouse that it grows off-season sweet potatoes.

Eating sweet potato vines in December, even remembering the bitterness and thinking of the sweetness has its price.

“Mr. Zhou, could you please take the kids to pick sweet potato vines and seedlings?” Mr. Chen said.

These two Mr. Zhous were truly management geniuses. With a flick of the hand, they pulled out a pack of little stickers: “Students, let’s have a competition to pick sweet potato vines and peel sweet potatoes. Once you peel one, stick a sticker on the bottom to see who can be number one, okay?” Anyway, the bottom part was going to be cut off.

The little creatures immediately got excited and followed the teachers out, howling.

Then, the two Mr. Zhous applied the same method to assigning the tasks of washing chives, seaweed, and kelp, soaking soybeans, and beating eggs to the little creatures, greatly lightening the load for Jiang Feng and the others.

The most crucial part was that the group of little creatures were having a blast working, each more earnest and careful than the last.

Wu Minqi excelled at Sichuan cuisine, and Jiang Feng was good at home cooking. The two of them working together were incredibly efficient. By morning, the kitchen was filled with the scent of various dishes, of which the boil-bubbled Sichuan boiled fish was the most domineering. Wu Minqi was very bold with the ingredients, even somewhat whimsical. She had an astonishing chef’s intuition, which undoubtedly made Jiang Feng very envious.

Under normal logic, Wu Minqi would be the protagonist of a gourmet novel, young and beautiful, highly talented, from a distinguished family, and enduring hardships. She was practically a domineering CEO… wrong, she’s a woman.

Alas.

Jiang Feng sighed, no longer wanting to make an effort and pleading for the game to introduce him to some rich women.

In the long iron serving trays lay dishes that were already cooked, simply kept warm in hot water and steaming, waiting for the boiled fish and vegetable dumplings to be ready so they could be served.

“Mr. Chen, Mr. Chen, there’s been a bit of an emergency.” A middle-aged man in a very cool suit and leather shoes ran into the kitchen. He paused when he saw a row of delectable dishes ready, “Some of the students’ parents came to the school, not feeling reassured.”

“They might, probably, need lunch,” the middle-aged man admitted with less conviction, knowing he was somewhat at fault.

Mr. Chen furrowed his brows: “Mr. Jiang, we prepared everything in fixed quantities, even the rice was cooked to a fixed amount. Now that you’ve brought some additional parents, what are we supposed to do? It’s already half-past eleven and we have to start serving lunch in 20 minutes.”

“This, we didn’t anticipate this situation either, but the parents, including Director Han, are here and it’s mealtime. We can’t just not feed them, Mr. Jiang also panicked, his cool head shining brightly with sweat.

“I’ll contact some restaurants nearby to see if they can deliver some meals on short notice,” Mr. Chen, who was capable of anything, helplessly took out his phone. “How many parents have come?”

“60 people.”

“60 people?” Jiang Feng couldn’t help but turn around. What a coincidence?!

“Mr. Chen, you don’t need to look for restaurants. Don’t I still have 60 pickled vegetable dumplings for recalling hard times?” Jiang Feng lifted the lid of the steamer. The pickled vegetable dumplings that had propelled Liu Qian to trending status on social media a few days before were neatly laid out in the steamer, “I’ll also prepare 60 portions of cucumber, so the student’s parents can experience the spirit of this volunteer activity.”

Jiang Feng picked up the kitchen knife, its spine reflecting a flash of cold light.

Smashing cucumbers, it’s been a while.

“This…” Mr. Jiang hesitated for a moment, finding the idea a good one, “but can one big ball of dough really fill them up?”

Mr. Jiang even gestured with his hands: “Many of the student’s parents who came are fathers.”

“Yes, yes, a few days ago I ate too many and ended up in the hospital getting my stomach pumped,” Liu Qian hurriedly chimed in supportively.

Mr. Jiang looked at Liu Qian, finding her somewhat familiar.

“I’m the livestreamer who trended after overeating. The dumplings I ate were these, and they were delicious!”

Jiang Feng:…

Why do you explain that so fluently?