The Game of Life

Jiang Feng, holding a small jar that once contained minced garlic sauce but now was filled with apple jam, opened it and looked at the finely chopped apple jam inside, which bore a resemblance to the color of silver fungus and lotus seed soup, and raved, “Ji Yue, the jams your mom makes all look pretty good!”

“My mom’s been making jams for many years. I remember she started when I was in primary school. If you like it, you can take more jars. These sauces, Xue and I won’t be able to finish them by next year,” Ji Yue indicated to the jars of chopped chili, pickled chili, and chili oil on the coffee table. “Take a couple more jars of these for your Qiqi if she likes them, help yourself. And these pickles made from Shanghai green and potherb mustard are so-so, but the ones made with Chinese cabbage are especially delicious!”

Ji Yue, like a makeup counter salesperson in a department store, kept pushing her homemade goods, warmly asking passersby if they needed a free eyebrow trim or a light makeup touch-up.

“Isn’t Chinese cabbage pickle just the same as kimchi?” Jiang Feng, who grew up eating pickles personally made by Mrs. Wang Xiulian, had a lot to say about pickles.

“No, it’s not kimchi. Kimchi is like spicy cabbage, but this one is…you know, the kind used for stir-frying. An entire cabbage is pickled in a jar, and the jars here are all chopped up by my mom. I specifically brought 5 jars of these pickles for you, Jiang Feng. Take 3 jars, and give some to your parents, grandpa, and uncles’ families. You can eat the rest slowly, but this one needs to be eaten quickly—once it’s out of the jar, it won’t last. Generally, we make these pickles in the winter, because the temperature is most suitable, but my mom makes them all year round,” Ji Yue instructed.

“Pickled cabbage stir-fried with bamboo shoots tastes especially good. If there’s no bamboo shoots, stir-frying with lard is fine too, or even just stir-frying pickles with pickles is delicious. My mom makes this kind of pickle perfectly. You can’t compare what they sell outside with this,” Ji Yue started to lavish praise on the pickles her mother made as if the countless “not recommended for consumption” warnings she’d given before were said by someone else.

“Gurgle…” As she spoke, Ji Yue’s stomach growled.

Jiang Feng: ???

Is it that delicious?

“Did you eat on the train?” Jiang Feng asked.

He was starting to suspect that Ji Yue had forgotten to pack food before boarding the train. Then, embarrassed by her lean wallet and put off by the expensive train meals, she hadn’t eaten at all, leading to her stomach now voicing its protest.

“How could I not have eaten?” Ji Yue stubbornly insisted.

“What did you eat?” Wu Minqi asked.

Ji Yue: “…The egg my mom boiled for me yesterday morning that she stuffed in my bag, and the plain-flavored Alpenliebe lollipop I snatched from my brother the day before yesterday.”

Everyone: …

Jiang Feng and Wu Minqi looked simultaneously at Zhang Guanghang, their eyes filled with, “Your girlfriend has fallen on such hard times that when you picked her up, you didn’t even think to take her for a meal first.”

But then, seeing all the items Ji Yue and Zhang Guanghang had carried over, Jiang Feng felt a bit more understanding—it’s hard to feel hungry when you’re surrounded by all kinds of pickles and jams.

“There seems to be a bag of noodles in the kitchen, Yue, I’ll go cook a bowl of noodles for you,” Ji Xue stood up.

Ji Yue solemnly held up two fingers: “Two bowls.”

Ji Yue meant to say, is it too much for a weak girl like me, who weighs 99.6 pounds from eating only 1 egg and 1 plain lollipop over the past 20-plus hours and is about to break 100 pounds, to have two bowls of noodles for dinner?

Thinking of her weight before leaving, measured without her shoes, Ji Yue felt a bit melancholy. Ever since returning home, she had been eating pickles every day, which always made her eat an extra bowl of rice, causing the weight she had struggled to lose recently to come back.

“Do you guys want some?” Ji Xue asked.

They had all been sitting there, smelling the various pickles for half an hour. When Ji Xue asked, Jiang Feng actually felt a bit hungry and said, “Then please cook a bowl for me as well. Thanks.”

“I’ll have one too,” Wu Minqi chimed in.

“Much appreciated,” said Zhang Guanghang.

“I’m not sure if one bag of noodles is enough for six bowls. I remember there’s still half a bag of egg noodles in the cupboard. Would anyone like that kind?” Ji Xue announced she’d also like a bowl.

Everyone agreed they were all fine with it.

“Would you like some sauce with your noodles? Let me see, we’ve got chopped peppers, pickled peppers, pickled cucumber strips, pickles, pumpkin sauce, garlic chili sauce, winged beans, pickled green beans, strawberry jam, blueberry jam, apple jam, mushroom sauce… Ah, and this one, I almost forgot it in the other bag. These two are particularly tasty with noodles, let me go get them for you!” Ji Yue suddenly remembered she had two more items in another bag and with a spring in her step, she dashed into the room.

It wasn’t long before she returned, cradling two small black jars in her arms.

These two jars had a different style than the ones on the table.

“What are these?” Zhang Guanghang asked.

“These are pickled watermelon rind and garlic that my grandma made,” Ji Yue said.

“Labagou garlic?” Zhang Guanghang inquired.

“No, not Labagou garlic, they’re pickled in vinegar. They have a strong taste but are absolutely perfect with porridge and noodles!” Ji Yue opened the jar with the pickled garlic, and instantly, the entire living room was engulfed in a strong vinegar and sour aroma, making the chopped peppers and hot peppers lose all their presence.

“They’re just not quite suitable for eating in public,” Ji Yue muttered, quickly capping the jar before opening the other one, “You all must try this pickled watermelon rind later. My grandma carefully selected these, they’re really thick. Before pickling, you have to press them with a heavy object overnight to squeeze out the water, then sun-dry them. They’re crunchy and sweet, absolutely the best pickled watermelon rind you’ve ever tasted!”

Just as Ji Yue was about to further extol her grandmother’s superior pickling skills, Ji Xue walked out of the kitchen with a troubled look, “Um, I’m sorry. I remembered wrong—we only have half a bag of flour left. But there’s some leftover rice and two eggs in the fridge from yesterday. I was planning to make fried rice with eggs for breakfast today, but I overslept. There’s quite a lot of leftover rice, and with the noodles, it should be enough. How about I make some egg fried rice now?”

“Sure!” Ji Yue said, indicating it was fine as long as there was food—she could eat anything right now, especially with all these pickled vegetables at hand.

Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang couldn’t help but glance at the pickled vegetables that Ji Yue had enthusiastically recommended earlier.

“Just take it easy, Ji Xue. I’ll make the fried rice. Since we have all these pickles, why not make pickle fried rice?” Jiang Feng suggested.

“Huh?” Ji Xue blinked, “Better let me do it. You guys just relax.”

“We’re all chefs here, don’t you trust my cooking?” Jiang Feng stood up, glancing at the coffee table, “Which jar has the pickles?”

Ji Yue handed him one of the jars from her left side, “Use this one for the fried rice!”

“I’ll help out, too,” Zhang Guanghang announced, getting up.

Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang exchanged glances, their eyes locking in a clash as electric as a storm, blades ringing in the air.

Suddenly, Jiang Feng felt a sense of competition: the young chefs of Taifeng Building were about to face off, and his first culinary duel with Zhang Guanghang was going to be over today’s pickle fried rice.

Ji Yue, sensing something odd between the two: …

“Qiqi, do you find them a bit strange?” Ji Yue asked.

After pondering for a moment, Wu Minqi said, “During the time you were at home, Fengfeng’s popularity among customers has been climbing, and he’s currently surpassed Zhang Guanghang in reviews.”

“Your man’s been doing that well recently?!” Ji Yue exclaimed in surprise.

Wu Minqi concealed the fact that it was due to Jiang Feng’s popular pure meat wontons, nodding her head, “So I think, they might be trying to have a contest.”

“A contest?”

“Probably. During the Good Taste culinary competition, in the one-on-one rounds, they were never placed in the same group. The dishes they’re responsible for at Taifeng are different too. I guess this is the first time they’re making the same dish, so it’s a contest,” Wu Minqi concluded definitively.

Ji Yue shook her head, “Ah, your man is doomed to lose.”

Wu Minqi replied, “No, it’s your man who’s doomed to lose.”

Their eyes met, tension filling the air.

Ji Xue, the unsuspecting onlooker: ???

Did I miss something???