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Jiang Feng had concocted at least twenty different types of sauces just in the afternoon.

Everyone has different tastes, similar but never identical, so Sun Guanyun only let Jiang Feng prepare three sauces, which meant he had to choose the types very carefully.

While cooking in the kitchen, Jiang Feng was distracted, with his mind filled with the sauces he had mixed that afternoon.

Soy sauce, salt, MSG, vinegar, garlic paste, chili, sesame oil, chili oil, Sichuan pepper oil, and a host of other seasonings were spinning in his head, as if he had a virtual kitchen in his brain with small dishes lined up—two spoonfuls of soy sauce here, a spoonful of vinegar there, and a couple of drops of sesame oil in another.

Jiang Feng was mentally matching sauces while stir-frying vegetables, multitasking to the extreme, and then he almost had a disaster.

Wu Minqi grabbed Jiang Feng’s hand that was about to scoop up some salt: “You’ve already added salt.”

“Oh,” Jiang Feng pulled his hand back, thinking about adding sesame oil to Dish No. 1.

“No, the taste of prickly ash oil is a bit overpowering, should add a couple more drops of vinegar,” Jiang Feng murmured.

Wu Minqi glanced at the stir-fried cauliflower in Jiang Feng’s wok: ?

“Mr. Jiang, do we still have shrimp for the oil-braised prawns?” Ji Yue shouted from the kitchen doorway.

“No more, anything with shrimp is off sales!” Jiang Jiankang shouted back.

“One spoon of soy sauce, a slice of ginger, cilantro… no, can’t use cilantro, its strong flavor will overshadow the original taste of the shrimp.” Jiang Feng continued bustling around, his hands moving non-stop, plating dishes, setting them on the table at the kitchen door, “Stir-fried cauliflower is ready!” Then he turned and walked slowly back, picked up a plate of sliced winter melon, grabbed a handful of minced meat, and returned to his wok.

“Add some garlic paste, a drop of sesame oil, no wait, better with chili oil, no, sesame oil is more fitting,” Jiang Feng said as he picked up the oil jug to start pouring.

Jiang Jiankang looked at Jiang Feng with a complex expression.

This familiar feeling, the last time Jiang Feng was like obsessed with brewing mushroom soup, it was the same.

But-

Jiang Jiankang sprinkled a handful of young onion into his wok, beginning to stir-fry.

The mushroom soup that tasted so awful before, he had tasted every batch as his son’s father. Yet when cooking blanc shrimp this afternoon, he, while prepping in the back kitchen, thought it smelled delicious, but his son had not thought of him.

Unfilial son!

Jiang Jiankang tossed his wok vigorously, as if he had an irreconcilable grudge against it.

He really wanted to see if Jiang Feng would think of him, his father, tomorrow! Wu Minqi finished her Mapo Tofu and glanced at Jiang Feng and Jiang Jiankang.

She always felt that both Jiang Feng and Mr. Jiang were acting odd tonight, the atmosphere very subtle.

Fighting?

Not understanding the matters between this father and son, Wu Minqi placed the Mapo Tofu on the table and called out for Ji Yue, then went back to continue cooking.

After the busy work in the kitchen was done, having had dinner and helping to clean up, Jiang Feng headed back to the dormitory.

He had gone through all the sauces he mixed in the afternoon in his mind and started mixing new ones while tidying up the kitchen.

“Half a spoonful of vinegar, no, that’s a bit too much, just a quarter of a spoon then, plus one spoon of light soy sauce and half a spoon of dark soy…” Jiang Feng murmured to himself on his way back to the dorm, passing by the sports field, he happened upon Wang Hao who had just finished a night run.

No, it was Wang Hao who, having finished a night run, was secretly indulging in barbecue.

Wang Hao quickly stuffed the last skewer of lamb into his mouth and greeted nonchalantly as if nothing had happened: “Hey, Feng, what a coincidence, you closed up shop early today!”

Jiang Feng was in the middle of adding a tiny bit of Xiaomi pepper to a dish: “They’re selling barbecue at the sports field now?”

“… No, it’s a delivery I ordered, no, someone else ordered it and I just mooched a bit, only had one skewer,” Wang Hao wiped the grease from his mouth.

The lights at the sports field were broken again, dieters were night running, and lovey-dovey couples sat in the middle of the field cooing and cuddling. With the dim view, Jiang Feng didn’t notice the grease on Wang Hao’s mouth and took his fib for reality. In his mind, he added the final two drops of sesame oil, and a virtual stack of salty and sour sauces was ready.

“Do you usually eat boiled shrimp?” Jiang Feng asked.

“White-boiled shrimp, what shrimp?” Wang Hao was confused.

“It’s just shrimp boiled in plain water and eaten with dipping sauce. What flavor of sauce do you like?” Jiang Feng explained.

“Ah, I thought it was something special. Isn’t that just the shrimp served at banquet halls in hotels? You make it sound so complicated with that ‘white-boiled’ stuff; I thought it was grilled. As for the sauce, isn’t it just soy sauce with a bit of vinegar? It’s not tasty. Might as well just eat the shrimp.” Wang Hao said.

Jiang Feng:

His view was difficult to deal with, leaving no room for response.

Jiang Feng continued to brainstorm new sauce recipes in his head.

The rest of the journey was silent.

Wang Hao was looking at his phone the whole way and didn’t notice Jiang Feng’s odd behavior. It was only when they arrived at the dormitory entrance that he spoke up, “Hey, Feng, the selfie of the second-place winner from the Hang City competition is actually pretty. The organizers are so unfair, putting up such an ugly picture.”

Jiang Feng didn’t respond to him, accurately speaking, he didn’t hear him. He was preoccupied with whether to add minced garlic or garlic paste.

Wang Hao called out again, but Jiang Feng still didn’t hear him.

Wang Hao looked up and saw Jiang Feng’s obviously distracted expression and his heart skipped a beat.

This state was all too familiar to him.

Those days of mushroom soup were a nightmare Wang Hao couldn’t shake off.

“Err, Feng, have you been…” Wang Hao patted Jiang Feng to get his attention and then said, “Have you been researching any dishes lately?”

A smile tinged with bitterness.

“Not researching dishes, I’m just thinking about how to make a sauce for white-boiled shrimp.” Jiang Feng said.

Wang Hao silently took out his phone and sent a string of ”coo coo coo” to Ji Yue.

Ji Yue, who was happily drawing in her rented studio: ???

This Wang Hao, learning to become a pigeon spirit like herself?

The next day, Jiang Feng went to the restaurant early.

Breakfast was noodle topping, a name Jiang Jiankang came up with, using last night’s leftovers tossed together as a topping for noodles, an effective way to ensure no leftovers for lunch.

The leftovers from the day before were eggplant without minced meat, scrambled eggs without ham, and half a plate of green beans.

Jiang Jiankang gave most of the eggs and eggplant to Wang Xiulian, reserving the rest for himself, and gave all the green beans to Jiang Feng, to express his dissatisfaction with being excluded from the food testing.

Normally, he would at least give Jiang Feng a piece or two of meat!

Alas, Jiang Feng entirely missed the point, ate his breakfast as usual, and started to experiment with sauces.

The three Sirs arrived early, showing up before eight o’clock.

Jiang Weiguo, dressed in Valentino’s spring collection, boasted at the store entrance to Sun Guanyun, “My grandson’s talent for food testing might not be great, but his understanding is top-notch. Be mentally prepared, I’m afraid you’ll be too ashamed to show your face afterwards.”

Sun Guanyun, in a Versace new piece, retorted with a cold snort, “Let’s talk after your grandson gets it. An old man like you bragging isn’t ashamed.” Jiang Weiming, wearing last year’s discounted Uniqlo, played the peacemaker in the middle, “Alright, alright. There’s no need for you two to fight over Feng’s seasoning. If he doesn’t do well, we’ll just penalize him.”

Jiang Feng was in the kitchen, deveining shrimp with a toothpick, when he looked up to see the three old gentlemen with smiles on their faces.

Jiang Weiguo’s smile had a hint of menace.

Sun Guanyun’s smile was challenging.

Jiang Weiming’s smile was that of a spectator watching a play.

Jiang Feng: ?

Why did he feel like something was not quite right?