The Game of Life

He arrived just in time for the meal hour. Mr. Jiang Jiankang was using some leftover rice—it must have been from the previous night, as Jiang Feng had mentioned the pickled vegetables being particularly tasty with fried rice—so he probably cooked it up on the spot.

Mrs. Wang Xiulian had already started nibbling on a corn cob at the table.

Seeing Jiang Feng arrive, Mrs. Wang Xiulian put down the corn: “Son, what brings you here so early?”

“Mom, last night I discussed with Ji Yue, and now I want to talk to you about whether we can add her mom’s pickled vegetables to our restaurant’s supply list,” Jiang Feng got straight to the point.

Mrs. Wang Xiulian waved her hand dismissively and glanced towards the kitchen: “Let’s talk after we eat.”

It wasn’t two minutes before the pickled vegetable fried rice was ready.

In the matter of frying rice, the combined skills of Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang couldn’t match up to the over 20 years of experience Mr. Jiang Jiankang had in running a healthy snack business; he had fried more rice than Jiang Shoucheng and Jiang Zaidi had eaten combined.

Mr. Jiang Jiankang brought a large bowl of fried rice to the table.

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.

In preparing the fried rice, Mr. Jiang Jiankang didn’t just add pickled vegetables but also added shrimp and shredded meat. Just on the surface alone, Jiang Feng saw no fewer than seven shrimp, and the shredded meat and pickled vegetables mingled together under the rice, sending out an irresistible aroma.

“Son, have you eaten yet? If not, join us. Your mom has been on a diet lately and isn’t eating much for breakfast,” Mr. Jiang Jiankang said.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Jiang Feng replied.

Jiang Feng deeply felt that Mr. Jiang Jiankang was just outrageous, frying such sinfully delicious rice while knowing Mrs. Wang Xiulian was on a diet! As their son, he just couldn’t stand by and watch!

Jiang Feng decided to lead by example, willingly playing the dutiful son, and resolved to help Mrs. Wang Xiulian finish the fried rice.

Not only did he eat, but he also called Wu Minqi down to join them.

The more they, as the younger generation, ate, the less Mrs. Wang Xiulian would have to eat. The less she ate, the less weight she would gain.

Such a moving display of mother-son affection.

A pot of fried rice filled the stomachs of four people. Without any further ado, Mrs. Wang Xiulian went straight past Jiang Feng to ask Ji Yue for her mom’s WeChat and phone number, proving with actions the old adage that children should not meddle in adults’ affairs.

Although having such a rich breakfast of fried rice early in the morning did feel somewhat greasy, high in calories, and not quite healthy, the perfect fusion of meat, pickled vegetables, and rice grains lingered in Jiang Feng’s mind, even as he walked to work with Wu Minqi.

“Qiqi, how about we cook some extra rice tonight, so we can have fried rice for breakfast tomorrow?” Jiang Feng suggested.

Wu Minqi was tempted, but she quickly hesitated, remembering the weight she had secretly checked after Jiang Feng left home that morning.

“I don’t really like to eat in the morning. You go ahead,” said Wu Minqi.

Jiang Feng: ?

Since when has Minqi had this habit? How had I never noticed before?

“Then forget it. Let’s bring the pickled vegetables to the store tomorrow and try frying them with lard residue to see how it tastes,” Jiang Feng said.

“Okay,” Wu Minqi nodded, her mind already entertaining other ideas.

It was time to inquire about that gym Mrs. Wang often visited.

…

Today was Ji Yue’s exhausting first day back at work, and nothing eventful happened.

The next day, Jiang Feng brought half a jar of pickled vegetables to Taifeng Building, ready to make a dish of pickled vegetables stir-fried with lard residue after the lunch service to see just how versatile Ji Yue’s mom’s pickled vegetables really were.

The introduction of the pickled vegetables progressed swiftly. If this had been two years ago, Ji Yue’s mom wouldn’t have even considered selling pickled vegetables as too minor a business. But times had changed, and Ji Yue’s mom had even prepared to set up a stall with her sister-in-law to sell pickled vegetables. Suddenly, she received an offer with a fair price, large and stable demand, and instantly agreed to it.

Mrs. Wang Xiulian took charge of the negotiation regarding the price and supply volume with Ji Yue’s mom, and Ji Yue’s aunt by marriage handled the paperwork and transportation issues. After all, Ji Yue’s two uncles had been in the pickled vegetable business before, and her aunt by marriage had traveled far and wide peddling pickled vegetables, so she was quite experienced in this field.

Unlike Jiang Feng, who only thought of using the pickled vegetables for fried rice, the professional merchant Mrs. Wang Xiulian had various methods and business ideas for the pickled vegetables in mind as soon as she tasted the fried rice. Not limited to stir-frying, she planned to offer the pickled vegetables as a deluxe VIP membership gift in September, giving each member a small jar. By October, she intended to begin selling the pickled vegetables in limited daily quantities, evidently aiming to expand the business extensively.

But these were not matters Jiang Feng needed to worry about. What he was concerned about was the fact that the kitchen seemed to have run out of lard residue.

Would he really have to stay behind in the kitchen in the middle of the day to render lard residue just for a dish of pickled vegetables?

Jiang Feng fell into deep thought.

“Feng, I need three orders of the pure meat wontons. No, make it three,” a staff member of the indefinable Taifeng Building kitchen called out near the distribution area.

“Got it.”

The daily battle between the pure meat wontons and the Sweet and Sour Yam for lunchtime supremacy was about to start again, but today was a little different.

Hu Li had been watching closely for many days and finally spotted at table A11 a customer who had ordered the pure meat wontons before and had come to order them again today. She hurried to the pass-through window at the serving station.

The kitchen had only two points of external access besides the door: the area where cold dishes were prepared and the pass-through window.

“Tang Tang, could you please inform the young boss about the customer he asked me to keep an eye on? They are at table A11 right now,” Hu Li said, knowing full well that non-essential personnel weren’t allowed to enter the kitchen during operating hours, especially now.

“Sure, just give me a second,” said Tang Tang, setting down her knife to fetch someone.

Hu Li then waited beside the kitchen door.

In less than two minutes, Jiang Feng came out.

“`

“Are you sure you saw the customer who ordered the all-meat wontons before?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Positive, at table A11. Two guys came together, and it was him who ordered the all-meat wontons last time too. He was wearing black-rimmed glasses, had single eyelids, naturally curly hair, a white shirt with black trim, and black capri pants. His skin is very pale, and he looks somewhat decadent,” Hu Li said.

Jiang Feng: …

Girl, you really should be working in intelligence with those observation skills.

“Hu Li, could you please help me keep him here? Any reason will do. Or you could just tell him I’m doing some research stats and offer him a drink or a side dish on the house. Have him come to find me after his meal,” Jiang Feng said.

“Sure thing, boss. Don’t worry, consider it done,” Hu Li agreed without hesitation.

About half an hour later, Hu Li came to find Jiang Feng again.

Jiang Feng entrusted the remaining dishes to Mr. Jiang Jiankang to fry on his behalf, and the prices on the ordering system were higher with Mr. Jiang Jiankang, so the customers were at no loss.

Jiang Feng walked to the ordering tablet and pressed the button to pause work next to his name, then went to the lobby in his Taifeng Building kitchen uniform.

A chef from the kitchen suddenly showing up in the lobby was not an uncommon sight at Taifeng Building. The customers had grown used to it, as both Sirs often came out to cool off and enjoy the bustling scene in the lobby.

Jiang Feng approached table A11 and quickly identified the customer Hu Li had described.

“Hello,” Jiang Feng greeted him proactively. “I assume our staff has informed you about the situation?”

“Yes, yes, have a seat,” said the customer, who looked as worn-out as someone who had been through several consecutive days of overtime. His eyes were slightly red, as if from prior crying that had not yet fully subsided, but he seemed somewhat excited, “that waitress already told me. I didn’t expect cooking could be so tough that even the good sales of a dish could be questioned. It’s true, it’s not easy in any profession these days.”

Jiang Feng: …

What on earth did Hu Li tell him…

“Actually, it’s not all that bad,” Jiang Feng sat down, “This time, I mainly wanted to ask you a few questions about the dish.”

“Go ahead,” the young customer seemed eager.

“So, how many times have you ordered the all-meat wontons?” Jiang Feng inquired.

“Three times,” the young customer replied.

“Could you tell me why you ordered that dish? After all, the taste of that dish is… a bit…”

“Ah, I know, you mean it tastes bad, right?” The customer’s eyes lit up as he spoke, “Master Jiang, you may not realize, but that dish of yours, although it doesn’t taste that great, is actually very useful.”

“Useful?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t know. Let me start from the beginning,” he said.

“The thing is, I’m an art student, and I stayed at the school over the summer to prepare for a competition. Our instructor greatly appreciates the comic you posted on Taifeng Building’s official blog, particularly the close-up of the wontons, which he described as the soul of the entire comic. He even shared it in our competition group chat.”

“We have a senior who is a Master’s student mentored by this professor. He became curious after hearing that your restaurant actually sells these wontons, so he came to have a taste.”

“And then?” Jiang Feng pressed.

“And then he found, as expected, it tasted awful.”

Jiang Feng: ???

The young customer realized his slip-up and quickly tried to rectify, “No, I mean, even though the wontons taste bad, they inspired our senior. He had been stuck on a painting for an exhibition without any inspiration for a long time, but after eating your restaurant’s wontons, suddenly he found his muse and went back to lock himself in to paint. He hasn’t even come out of his dorm room yet.”

“So you guys…”

The young customer laughed sheepishly, “It’s just one of those things, you know. Inspiration isn’t something you can just summon on demand. It’s better to believe it could help, even if it doesn’t bring inspiration, than to not believe at all. Even if I didn’t find inspiration, having feelings is still good, so we just… But Master Jiang, your wontons are really something. I didn’t feel much the first time, but after the second time, I really started to feel something. It’s all thanks to you. I feel like my painting will stand out in our academy’s competition!”

Jiang Feng: …

The first time he tried the dish, he cried once. Now he’s coming back for a second cry in search of inspiration. You artists are truly terrifying.

“Congratulations, congratulations! What are you painting for the competition, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jiang Feng inquired casually.

“Destruction.”

Jiang Feng: ???

Jiang Feng could only cover his embarrassment with a dry laugh, now fully aware of the reason behind the sudden popularity of the all-meat wontons.

It was just a group of art students trying to find their painting inspiration through superstitions, akin to the belief in jinxes like wearing a Conan O’Brien pin or not, and, astonishingly, it worked for a few of them.

Indeed, the price of success is steep.

“Thank you so much. I’ve asked everything I wanted to ask,” Jiang Feng stood up.

“No problem at all,” the young customer replied eagerly, somewhat restrained as he spoke the words he’d longed to say, “Um, Master Jiang, would it be okay… to shake your hand? My left hand, please. I’m a lefty.”

“Huh?”

“I should finish my painting within a week, all thanks to your wontons. I want to shake your hand, maybe get… some more inspiration,” the customer’s excitement mirrored that of a fan at an idol’s handshake event.

Jiang Feng: ???

What’s with you artists…?

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