The Game of Life

Chapter 418: Chapter 416: You Call This Stewing?

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At 3:17 PM, the dishes began to arrive on the table in succession.

Jiang Weiguo had finished all his dishes, Jiang Weiming’s Roasted Pig was in its final stages, Jiang Jiankang had come in midway to whip up a quick pickle fried rice before leaving, Jiang Feng’s seven orders of Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon had just been served, leaving only the stuffed crab oranges to simmer slowly in the pot.

The Sweet and Sour Yam would be the dessert to end the feast, so there was no rush to prepare it.

In those days, Jiang Feng had been practising his braising over a wood stove at the Li Mansion in the afternoon and taking notes on a gas stove at home during the evening, gradually improving his braising skills. Although still not great, he had figured out a few things—some useful experience from the wood stove, but still nothing fruitful from the gas stove.

Both the elderly gentlemen had left, and Jiang Weiming needed to change his dirty clothes, believing Jiang Feng could be trusted to watch the Roasted Pig. Consequently, the kitchen was left with Jiang Feng alone, watching his notes on his phone and periodically turning the flame on and off on the gas stove.

The stuffed crab orange had only been on the stove for five minutes, and Jiang Feng had already turned the flame on and off twice.

Outside, the younger members of the Jiang Family had all arrived, including Jiang Shoucheng, who was supposed to be on duty at the hospital. He had switched shifts with Old Sun to be able to attend the Mid-Autumn Festival feast, which meant he would have to work three consecutive night shifts next week.

Jiang Shoucheng, who had become gaunt eating broccoli every day for love and was quickly losing weight from his initial 200 pounds, lifted his head with a look of longing and glanced at the two antique-looking tables already full of dishes nearby, starting to count the attendees.

“Uncle, Granduncle, De, grandfather, Granduncle Weiming, Feng… Feng’s in the kitchen, grandmother, eh, where’s grandmother gone?” Jiang Shoucheng was surprised to find Mrs. Jiang was not there.

“What are you looking for?” Jiang Zaidi, who had received a mooncake with ice skin from Aunt, began to eat it, consuming half in one bite.

The taste was okay, although he regretted it wasn’t from the freezer. Jiang Zaidi said he preferred ice skin mooncakes that had been refrigerated, or better yet, frozen since his teeth could handle it.

“De, have you seen grandmother? And hey, where did you get that mooncake?” Jiang Shoucheng got distracted by the ice skin mooncake in Jiang Zaidi’s hand.

“Grandmother seemed to have gone to the kitchen; isn’t she supposed to be making scallion pancakes today?” Jiang Zaidi spoke and stuffed the remaining half of the mooncake into his mouth, swallowing it after a few chews. “Aunt gave it to me, we’re about to eat soon; you should eat less mooncake. I just picked a small one to taste. Aunt brought back a suitcase full of mooncakes this time. If you want some, you can take them to the hospital. However, I don’t think she brought any ham mooncakes this time, I’ve searched all over and haven’t seen a single box of ham mooncakes. It’s possible she didn’t bring any, or maybe they’re all with Junlian; I just saw that she had stacked a lot of mooncakes.”

The ham mooncakes that Jiang Zaidi couldn’t find were all with Ji Xia. Jiang Junlian loved unpacking things; she had taken four large boxes of ham mooncakes over to Ji Xia, which she had already unwrapped, leaving just the individual mooncakes, while the outer packaging had been tossed into the trash.

“This is a Yunnan ham mooncake, the ham inside is all lean meat, and I love this brand! My uncle brings me loads of these mooncakes every Mid-Autumn Festival! Also, this brand’s mooncakes might have ugly packaging, but they taste great, stuffed with meat chunks—just gets a bit salty if you eat too many.” Jiang Junlian enthusiastically began introducing her favorite mooncakes to her newly acknowledged best sister, “Try this one, and this one, and this one—you definitely must eat more of this one.”

Ji Xia was suddenly overwhelmed with a heap of mooncakes from Jiang Junlian.

Ji Xia had never eaten ham mooncakes and didn’t even know that something resembling a plain cake could actually be a mooncake. Previously, when Jiang Feng had ordered mooncakes from Eight-treasure House for takeout and given one to Ji Xia, he hadn’t told her it was a mooncake, and she had assumed she had eaten a very delicious sweet, meatless cake that day.

Ji Xia opened a mooncake and took a bite.

A mouthful of meat.

Meat.

Salty.

Distinct grains of filling, yet all plump, the salty umami of ham permeating every corner of the mouth, contrasting with the flaky pastry, the salty and light flavors meeting just right in the mouth, the tongue coated with the taste of meat. This feeling of eating meat in big bites was what Ji Xia liked best, and what she enjoyed the most.

Ji Xia narrowed her eyes in bliss.

Since she had become Jiang Feng’s apprentice, she got to eat many different kinds of meat daily, yet never grew tired of it, whether it was pork, chicken, duck, fish, lamb, or any other kind of meat, Ji Xia liked them all.

But Ji Xia dared not eat meat continuously, even though she knew that most of her master’s family, like her, were meat enthusiasts, and she had seen firsthand what clashes at the dining table, and the knife-like speed of chopsticks could be like. However, she remained somewhat cautious and discreet when eating.

Over the years, whether or not she could get meat in her meals at the school cafeteria depended on the mood of the cafeteria auntie. At Master Liang’s noodle shop, she felt embarrassed to scoop up too much beef for her noodles, and at home, it all depended on her mother’s mood—if her mother was in a good mood, Ji Xia could pick up a couple of pieces of meat, but from the third piece onwards, there would be implicit criticism about Ji Xia being inconsiderate for not leaving the good stuff for her father, or how she couldn’t compare to Ji Xue, and other such common scoldings.

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Gradually, Ji Xia had developed a habit, when eating, she would only pick up a couple of chopsticks worth of meat at most.

Only during the New Year could she indulge in eating meat to her heart’s content, but that didn’t last for more than a few days, as Ji Xia couldn’t possibly stay at her grandma’s house for the entire New Year period. For Ji Xia, her grandma was the only person who would pick up some meat for her, encouraging her to eat more.

Now there was another person.

Jiang Junlian was relentlessly stuffing her with ham mooncakes.

Ji Xia had no choice but to eat them one by one, consuming four in one go, one from each of the four different brands. Jiang Junlian ate alongside her; they didn’t just eat—the elder was eager to share her experiences with the mooncakes she had tasted before.

“Xiaxia, let me tell you, the year before last I had a wasabi salmon mooncake, and its taste was simply extraordinary,” she said.

“As soon as the mooncake touched my mouth, I could feel the crisp crust, and upon biting into it, the subtle heat of the wasabi flavor bowled me over. What followed was the salmon’s rich and distinctive fat aroma, chased around the mouth by the taste of seaweed. If you chewed carefully, you’d even discover the middle filled with chewy, sweet fish roe that seemed to ride a wave of seaweed and salmon up onto the shore,” Jiang Junlian recounted.

“Ah, that flavor!”

Standing nearby, not wanting to eat mooncakes but wanting to start the meal quickly, Jiang Junqing: …

Sister, get a grip, your language exam is over, you don’t need to write an essay anymore.

Previously, she referred to her as Ji Xia or simply as the apprentice, and now, after sharing just a few mooncakes, she’d started to endearingly call her Xiaxia.

Heh, identical twin sister.

On the other side, Mrs. Jiang was cooking pancakes in the kitchen.

Scallion pancakes, one batch using small green onions and another using larger ones, the small green onions with sesame seeds sprinkled on top and the large ones without.

Jiang Feng and Mrs. Jiang, each with a pot, were in perfect harmony—Jiang Feng stewing crab-stuffed oranges, Mrs. Jiang making pancakes.

Soon, this harmony was interrupted by a call from the delivery man.

“Grandma, I’m going to pick up a delivery, can you keep an eye on my pot?” Jiang Feng asked for Mrs. Jiang’s help.

“What do you have in your pot?” Mrs. Jiang had just finished a batch of large scallion pancakes, pushed a plate toward Jiang Feng, “Take this plate of pancakes out too, bring it to your grandpa’s table.”

“I’m stewing crab-stuffed oranges, just keep an eye on it for me, I’ll be back in two minutes,” Jiang Feng took the plate and dashed off.

Mrs. Jiang looked over at Jiang Feng’s pot, observing the gentle flame beneath it, and then she recalled how Jiang Feng had kept turning the stove on and off.

This is what Feng calls stewing?

Stewing?

Can this even be called stewing???

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And there’s more.