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Looking at the freshly made Shafu Roast Chicken in front of him, which perfectly captured what Zhang Guanghang remembered from his childhood, Jiang Feng could only sigh: The young Zhang Guanghang was much easier to fool than Zhang Zhiyuan.

At least the Yun Chicken resembles General Tso’s Chicken in appearance, but this dish of fragrant pan-fried chicken mixed with crispy apples had two apples thrown in, on a small plate, with no particular arrangement – the apples were just casually placed on top of the Shafu Roast Chicken.

So where exactly does this strange dish, besides its name, resemble Shafu Roast Chicken?

How did Zhang Guanghang get duped by Xia Mushi when he was young? Or could it be that Zhang Guanghang was inherently an easy person to please?

Jiang Feng fell silent, unable to even come up with a word of praise on the spot.

“Sigh, is this a new dish? Zhang, is this the dish you prepared for today?” Jiang Weisheng popped out of nowhere, taking great interest in the Chinese-style Shafu Roast Chicken made by Zhang Guanghang, “Is this that innovative dish that’s very popular online now, where they cook fruits and meats together? Didn’t I see somewhere they were making Blueberry Chinese Yam, Pear-braised Tangerines, Chicken Diced with Lychee or something like that?”

Jiang Feng: …

“Mr. Jiang… what you’re talking about might be university canteen food, right?”

“Canteen food? Maybe so, I’ve never eaten in a university canteen anyway.” Jiang Weisheng expressed that he was someone who hadn’t managed to get into university, just like his son, and by extension, his partner and daughter-in-law were also in the same boat, all lacking university education. Their only hope for a college education, their grandson, was still struggling in primary school.

Given his grandson’s current academic performance, if it weren’t for the expansion of college enrollments these days, he’d probably end up walking the same path as his father and grandfather had before him.

It was better to be born smart than to study hard.

“If Tantan manages to get into a university in Beiping, that’d be great. But Beiping’s cuisine isn’t very spicy, and they like to use sesame paste, so I don’t know if he’d get used to it,” Jiang Weisheng muttered.

Jiang Feng: ???

He felt that the leaps in Jiang Weisheng’s thoughts were getting increasingly difficult to comprehend these days.

“Mr. Jiang, why aren’t you starting on the cooking yet? It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Jiang Feng asked, glancing at his watch – it was nearing 6 PM.

He had just noticed that Jianguo’s hand-pulled longevity noodles were already in the pot, and Sang Ming’s brand-new fruit platter inspired by the Thirteen Orphans Mahjong tiles was completed 20 minutes ago.

Jiang Weisheng’s peculiar-tasting soup took a while to cook, and if he didn’t start now, he might not be ready in time for dinner.

“I’m waiting for the stove… Oh, Han’s done, I won’t chat anymore, I need to go make the soup,” Jiang Weisheng cheerfully went off to prepare his soup.

Zhang Guanghang covered the Shafu Roast Chicken to keep it warm and asked, “Aren’t you going to make the Yun Chicken yet?”

“No rush on my dish, the Yun Chicken can be prepared in 20 minutes. Look, Zhang Weiyu’s dish is almost ready; once he’s done, I’ll go and prepare the Yun Chicken,” Jiang Feng said.

Wu Minqi was opening the freezer to get her morning-carved crane-adorned longevity watermelon, and Jiang Feng’s thoughts drifted to Zhang Guanghang’s birthday cake that had been prepared in the morning and was still in the fridge.

“Should we take out the birthday cake now?” Jiang Feng asked, “My uncle’s longevity noodles are already in the pot. I reckon dinner will start before 7, probably around 6:30.”

Zhang Guanghang nodded his head. “I’ll go and get it.”

The kitchen was bustling with activity, so much so that Jiang Feng, who was waiting for his turn at the stove, seemed rather idle in comparison. With nothing to do, Jiang Feng simply wandered out to the front to check on the preparations for the hotpot ingredients.

On the three large round tables in Area C, induction cookers had already been set up. Jiang Feng felt like he could already smell the scents of dried chillies and Sichuan peppercorns.

The mahjong had been put away, leaving no traces of the prior battle. The hall had been cleaned up nicely, and red lanterns adorned with the character for longevity hung from the ceiling, having come from who knows where. Jiang Feng counted them carefully and found there were exactly 99.

Jiang Weiming had changed into a freshly tailored, formal Zhongshan suit and sat upright in his seat, looking every bit the image of the elegantly dressed and bookish old gentleman that Jiang Feng remembered seeing in teahouses or restaurants.

While he claimed not to celebrate birthdays or longevity, he had made sure to order new clothes early. Wearing a smile on his face, his eyes frequently turned to examine the red lanterns hanging from the rafters.

Who wouldn’t like the feeling of being valued and loved?

Jiang Feng looked around but couldn’t find Ji Yue. He had intended to casually ask one of the familiar-looking but unnameable waitresses about how the hotpot preparations were coming along when his phone rang.

The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” Jiang Feng pressed the answer button.

“Hello, may I speak with Mr. Jiang Feng? Your cake delivery has arrived. Please come to the entrance of Taifeng Building to pick it up.”

Cake delivery?

Someone had ordered a birthday cake?

But why was his phone number listed?

Jiang Feng went to the entrance with his phone in hand, feeling puzzled. A delivery person in a yellow uniform stood in front of an electric scooter with a matching yellow delivery box, holding a large birthday cake box.

“Are you Mr. Jiang Feng? Here is your birthday cake. Please don’t forget to give us a 5-star rating, thank you!” The delivery person said with a smile, handing over the cake to Jiang Feng.

“Ah, okay.” Jiang Feng took the cake and watched the delivery person ride off on the little scooter, speeding away to the next order.

Pondering over who the suspect could be, Jiang Feng carried the cake inside, only to bump into Zhang Guanghang coming out of the kitchen with another cake in his hands. The two locked eyes, taken aback.

Zhang Guanghang’s gaze fixed on the cake box in Jiang Feng’s hands, his face clearly expressing ‘You knew I was making a cake, why order another one? Were you worried that one cake wouldn’t be enough for everyone?’

“I don’t know who ordered it either. That person left my phone number,” Jiang Feng explained.

At that moment, Ji Yue came downstairs from the second floor, carrying a bunch of celery from who knows where. She saw both Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang each holding a cake and asked in surprise, “Why did you guys get two cakes?”

“This cake isn’t the one I ordered. I don’t know who placed the order; they left my phone number,” Jiang Feng explained for the second time.

Wu Minqi came out of the kitchen holding a watermelon carving, and seeing another cake in Jiang Feng’s hands, she paused and asked, “How come you’ve ordered a cake too?”

“This cake isn’t the one I ordered. The person who ordered the cake left my phone number, and I have no idea who placed the order,” Jiang Feng explained for the third time.

Jiang Shoucheng, who was just behind Wu Minqi, walked out from the kitchen chewing on something and saw Jiang Feng holding a cake. He asked, “Hey, little brother, did you also order a cake? Why do you have two cakes?”

“This cake isn’t the one I ordered. It’s…” Jiang Feng began to explain for the fourth time, trying to put the cake on the table and slip into the kitchen to make Yun Chicken.

Before Jiang Feng could put down the cake, Jiang Jiankang came out from the kitchen holding a dish. He was surprised to see Jiang Feng still holding a cake and asked, “Son, why did you also buy a cake?”

Jiang Feng: …

So now the question arises, what is the essence of humanity?

“I’m going to make Yun Chicken.” Jiang Feng put down the cake and slipped away.

“This cake?” Jiang Jiankang followed up.

“The cake wasn’t ordered by Jiang Feng. The person who ordered it left his phone number, and he doesn’t know who it was,” Zhang Guanghang, Wu Minqi, Ji Yue, and Jiang Shoucheng said in unison.

When Jiang Feng slipped into the kitchen, only Jiang Weisheng was left wrestling with the food on the stove; the others had either finished or were in the final stage of plating.

Jiang Jianguo, seeing that Jiang Feng had finally arrived, quickly waved him over: “Feng, come here quick and tell me how to arrange this dough.”

Jiang Jianguo was struggling with how to perfectly place the green onions, vegetables, eggs, and noodles to create a beautiful presentation for longevity noodles.

“You can put the egg in the very center, arrange the vegetables above and below, place the green onions to the left and right, and spread the noodles a bit flatter,” Sang Ming suggested.

Jiang Feng: …

Don’t think I don’t know you’re actually talking about a pizza.

“Place the vegetables along the rim of the bowl, spread a layer of green onions underneath, and place the egg on top,” Jiang Feng suggested.

Although Jiang Jianguo was a tailor on the surface, over the years, in order to make dim sum and noodles for his great-aunt, he hadn’t fallen behind in his culinary skills at all.

There was only one bowl of longevity noodles, the size of a regular soup bowl, not the Jiang family’s special large rice bowl, and one single noodle filled the bowl. The noodle was thin and long, hidden in the soup bowl among the eggs, green onions, and vegetables, so that one couldn’t tell that there was actually only one noodle in the bowl.

The noodle soup was made from chicken stock, which Jiang Feng guessed must have been prepared by Jiang Jiankang. The soup had little color, merely carrying a milky hue from the noodles themselves, and one couldn’t tell that it was actually made from chicken stock unless they came closer and smelled the rich chicken fragrance.

Jiang Jiankang’s chicken stock and Jiang Jianguo’s longevity noodles combined to make a bowl that could be considered the joint effort of two of the most skilled cooks in the Jiang family’s uncle generation.

Leaving Jiang Jianguo to continue studying plate arrangement at the culinary station, Jiang Feng went to the stove to make birthday-celebratory Yun Chicken for Jiang Weiming, cooking skillfully as he thought of Jiang Weiming’s taste preferences.

Twenty minutes later—

Jiang Jianguo agonized over the noodles for twenty minutes, even pouring a few more ladles of stock over them during that time. Finally, he decided to follow Jiang Feng’s suggestion and created a bowl of longevity noodles that actually looked quite nice.

“Feng, is your dish ready? We need to start serving,” Jiang Jianguo urged.

“It’s ready now; it can come out of the pot,” Jiang Feng said, casually picking up a plate to serve the dish, and turned to ask Jiang Weisheng, who was two stoves away, “Mr. Jiang, is your soup ready?”

“Two more minutes and it will be ready; you all go ahead and serve the dishes first. My soup is last to be served,” Jiang Weisheng focused intently on the soup in the pot, for the soup was being prepared for Master Jiang and could not afford the slightest mishap.

“Then let’s take the dishes over first,” Jiang Feng said, carrying the Yun Chicken and joining Jiang Jianguo to head out.

No sooner had Jiang Feng emerged from the kitchen with the Yun Chicken than he was greeted with a scent so overpowering, spicy, and slightly numbing that it made one’s scalp tingle, limbs stiffen with trepidation, almost as if anticipating the flavor of Shu region’s hotpot.

The closer he got to Area C, the stronger the hotpot scent became, causing those who liked it to drool just from the aroma, while those who disliked it, or even feared it—like Jiang Feng—now felt like running away with the Yun Chicken in tow.

When Jiang Feng finally caught sight of the hotpot on the table, he was reminded of that dream.

The red oil churned within the pot, crowded with distinct chili and Sichuan peppercorns, plump and rolling, bubbling away. So forceful was its presence that even the nearby clear broth pot fell victim to the infiltrating red oil, tainting its pure color.

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but swallow a gulp of fearful saliva.

Granduncle Weiming had once been a true Beiping native, yet the hotpot base he fried up was even more authentic than those from the Shu region.

“Master Jiang is really amazing, just smelling it, I know it’s very authentic. I bet in my area, there are hardly a few who could make the hotpot base better than Master Jiang!” Sang Ming said to Han Yigu beside him.

Jiang Feng placed the Yun Chicken on the table, and Jiang Jianguo brought the longevity noodles to Jiang Weiming.

“Feng, where’s Weisheng?” Jiang Weiming asked.

“Mr. Jiang’s soup is the grand finale, naturally it comes out last,” Jiang Feng replied with a smile.

Two minutes later, Jiang Weisheng emerged, carrying his latest developed novelty-flavored weird soup, and placed it confidently on the table.

“You’re always the slowest, everyone was waiting for you. You’re always like this, even at your age you don’t change this habit,” Jiang Weiming said with a laugh.

“Master, this is a new flavor I’ve been developing recently; I’m sure you’ll like it!” Jiang Weisheng was as eager as a child showing off test scores to parents.

“Granduncle, shall we begin the feast?” Jiang Weiguo asked.

“Everyone must be hungry after waiting so long. Let’s start the feast!” Jiang Weiming said happily.

As if on cue, everyone took a step closer to Jiang Weiming and together they said, “Happy birthday, Grandpa Jiang/Granduncle Weiming/Uncle Weiming/Granduncle,”

The voices of many mingled together, culminating in the most lively birthday Jiang Weiming had ever experienced.