The Game of Life

Sir Jiang was in a good mood, even humming a tune while feeding the pigs.

In the pigpen, Da Hua was the most cheerful at jostling for food, its robust body, fluid lines, and powerful hind legs constantly on display, showing off its excellence as a pig.

Sir Jiang appraised Da Hua with satisfaction, mentally calculating how much meat would be left after it was stripped and deboned.

Da Hua buried its head in the main feed, completely unaware that the blade of fate was about to descend upon it.

The next morning, amidst Da Hua’s fierce struggles and heart-wrenching screams, it became meat on the chopping board. Sir Jiang personally butchered the pig, separating the legs, loin, Wuhua meat, buttock meat, ribs, head, and offal into different categories, then froze them with ice blocks. He left several dozen pounds of his wife, Mrs. Jiang’s, favorite Wuhua and buttock meat, and sent the rest by SF Express directly to the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant.

After that, Sir Jiang, carrying wild game and mountain delicacies, boarded the bus to the city.

Sir Jiang got motion sick, had never ridden the high-speed train, and didn’t know how to use a phone to buy tickets. He carried his large and small bags all the way to the bus to Alan City. By the time he arrived, the pork had been there for three days already.

Jiang Jiankang was a bit dazed when he first received the express delivery. Several large boxes, all emitting a chill, with the symbol for fresh produce printed on them. He didn’t remember ordering fresh produce at all.

But as soon as he opened the boxes and laid all the pork out, he recognized that the contents were from Da Hua the moment he saw the pig’s head.

Not only did he recognize it, but Mrs. Wang Xiulian did as well.

The couple discussed it for a long time, wondering for whom Sir Jiang had sent the butchered Da Hua. Jiang Jiankang didn’t dare to phone Sir Jiang about such trifles, for fear of being scolded mercilessly.

So Da Hua was left in the cold storage, right until Sir Jiang arrived in Alan City three days later.

Although Sir Jiang did not know how to use a phone to buy tickets, he knew how to use the Amap app. With the help of navigation, he took the bus and arrived at the entrance of the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant with a big sack at dinner time.

“Dad!” Wang Xiulian, who was collecting money in the store, couldn’t believe her eyes and shouted loudly, causing all the customers in the store to look toward the entrance in unison.

“Dad, why didn’t you say you were coming? Jiankang and I would have come to pick you up!” Wang Xiulian ran eagerly to the entrance to take the sack from Sir, but didn’t dare to open it, “Why bring so much stuff with you? Aren’t you tired? We received Da Hua you sent a couple days ago.”

“Did you touch it?” Sir asked.

“No, we wouldn’t dare to without your word. It’s all in the cold storage, not a single piece is missing!” Wang Xiulian hurriedly ushered Jiang Weiguo into the shop, yelling towards the kitchen, “Jiankang! Jiang Jiankang! Dad is here, come out quickly!”

“What, Dad’s here?” Jiang Jiankang hadn’t even finished cooking when he ran out of the kitchen with his spatula.

“What’s with the panic? You look like a mess!” Seeing the carrot strip hanging on the spatula in Jiang Jiankang’s hand, Jiang Weiguo couldn’t help but scold him, snatching the spatula and walking into the kitchen.

The couple quickly followed him in.

It turns out Jiang Feng’s family really is having a tough time!” A girl in a yellow jacket sighed.

“Yeah, I thought it was just rumors, I had no idea his family was actually in such difficulty,” the girl with a red hat beside her agreed, nodding.

Even Ji Yue, who knew about the daily turnover at Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant, began to doubt—was Jiang Feng’s family really in debt?

There was no helping it. Jiang Weiguo’s appearance at the entrance of the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant earlier was just too fitting with everyone’s mental image, and that found on TV, of a rural father coming to the city to find his kin: a dusty cotton-padded jacket, an old face, dark skin, weather-beaten hands, and an old sack.

The above image is what all the customers at the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant imagined for themselves.

Aside from the genuine fatigue of a long bus ride, Old Sir Zhang compared to his peers, wasn’t dark, aged, or weather-beaten. In fact, he was a bit plump, robust, and most crucially, the drab, nondescript, and even somewhat ugly cotton-padded coat he wore was from Valentino.

When Jiang Weiguo entered the kitchen, Jiang Feng was still simmering soup.

In the past few days, he even felt he had become somewhat obsessed.

While making soup and cooking, hardly anything from the outside world could disrupt Jiang Feng’s focus. It was as if he heard nothing, saw nothing, like the protagonist of a fantasy novel entering a mysterious state during practice – wholeheartedly devoted to the dishes and soup in front of him.

He began to critically evaluate the feedback given by the game for the dishes he made, to seriously analyze the correct “Fire Control,” to search for the best ways to handle ingredients, and to really ponder over food compatibility and many other aspects he typically wouldn’t even contemplate.

These were things Jiang Jiankang couldn’t teach him.

Within a few short days, Jiang Feng’s improvement in soup-making could be described as transformational.

Jiang Feng showed no hint of awareness when Jiang Weiguo arrived.

The soup he was making today was oyster mushroom, corn, and tea tree mushroom soup.

To remove the peculiar taste of tea tree mushrooms, he had stir-fried them first with green onions, ginger, and garlic.

It was nearing the final stage.

Jiang Feng stirred the soup slowly clockwise with a ladle; the steam gently rose and then dispersed, filling the air with a rich mushroom aroma.

Inhaling the scent, Jiang Weiguo walked over, glanced at the soup pot – besides the mushrooms and corn, there were a few other ingredients visible and at least three kinds could be discerned by sight and smell.

“This soup won’t do,” Sir Jiang simply stated without intervening, “There are too many ingredients in your kitchen, and your skills aren’t refined enough to handle them all.”

Jiang Feng’s grip on the ladle paused, and he turned his head as if waking from a dream.

“Grandpa?” Jiang Feng was startled.

How many days have you been making soup?” Jiang Weiguo asked.

Half… over half a month now,” Jiang Feng was still somewhat dazed, Jiang Weiguo’s sudden appearance from the countryside to Alan City had caught him completely off guard.

“Your father told me you’ve been obsessed with mushroom soup lately,” Jiang Weiguo picked up the ladle, stirring the pot, “Decent overall, but a bit greedy.” “Do you think that whatever mushrooms you add, the taste seems out of place, so you keep adding this and that, turning the mushroom soup into a hodgepodge?” Jiang Weiguo, being an experienced chef for many years, saw right to the heart of the issue.

Jiang Feng nodded repeatedly.

“You’re making mushroom soup yet you find the taste of mushrooms too strong, isn’t that absurd?” Jiang Weiguo scolded, tapping the edge of the pot with the ladle, “Stew it down!”

Jiang Feng felt as if he’d been struck.

Indeed, he had been making mushroom soup, so why did he think the taste of mushrooms was too strong?

So all these days…

Were they just wasted effort?