The Game of Life

"Add… add daylily!” Liu Qian hesitated.

"Daylily?” Daylily indeed has a fresh taste, adding it to the soup certainly makes a good seasoning.

"My family always adds daylily to soups, whether it’s chicken, spare ribs, or kelp soup. What, are you going to make soup, President?” Liu Qian’s eyes lit up, and she said with a smile,

“Don’t forget to call me for a taste when it’s ready!” Jiang Feng nodded in agreement.

He decided to cook two pots of soup later, one with daylily and one without, and in the end, he would taste each and see which one to use based on the situation.

After fiddling in the kitchen for an afternoon, Jiang Feng ultimately chose the batch with daylily, even though it wasn’t that great.

[A pot of soup with unevenly cut radishes, excessive cooking time, and a peculiar mushroom aftertaste]

Following Jiang Huiqin’s steps, Jiang Feng tried making the clear soup with willow leaves and swallow vegetables again, but the result was still an F grade.

Taking a sip, it was indeed as unpalatable as F grade deserves, Jiang Feng silently poured it into the swill bucket.

Even with white radish and daylily added, the flavor of the mushrooms still stood out garishly, and Jiang Feng felt like something was still missing.

What was missing?

Maybe add some corn?

Add some winter melon?

Add some potatoes?

But adding so many things would turn it into a mixed vegetable soup, which is quite different from mushroom soup.

What to add?

In the following days, these five words constantly lingered in Jiang Feng’s mind. He pondered what to add to the soup to overpower the taste of mushrooms, ignoring his other duties, and kept boiling pot after pot of soup, staring at the soup pots on the stove all day long.

He had convinced himself that the essence of Jiang Huiqin’s version of the clear soup with willow leaves and swallow vegetables lied in the mushroom soup, and once he managed to cook the right mushroom soup, the improvement of the dish could be completed.

He had even become somewhat obsessed.

Two weeks passed, and Jiang Feng’s soup-making skills had improved quite a bit, but the soups he produced were still problematic.

He experimented with every kind of mushroom—oyster mushrooms, enoki mushrooms, crab mushrooms, king oyster mushrooms, white jade mushrooms, shiitake mushrooms, tea tree mushrooms, champion mushrooms, fragrance mushrooms, slippery jack mushrooms, button mushrooms, lion’s mane mushrooms, white ling mushrooms, beech mushrooms, flower mushrooms, straw mushrooms—and as a result, the kitchen was constantly steeped in mushroom aroma, so much so that even the dishes Jiang Jiankang cooked had a subtle hint of mushroom. His perfected soups were put to use by Mrs. Wang Xiulian, who served them to customers, and many had complained to Ji Yue that the soup they received lately tasted terrible.

Jiang Feng was washing enoki mushrooms.

He washed them meticulously, soaking them repeatedly in clean water and scrubbing each one with care.

Jiankang sliced the vegetables with a distracted mind, while cautiously observing Jiang Feng.

He felt his son had been acting strangely lately.

As if he had picked a fight with mushrooms, endlessly cooking mushroom soup from dawn till dusk, and then in the evening, he would use a pot of that mushroom soup to make that weird dish with silver fungus, quail eggs, and spam for lunch.

Should he go to the temple and get an exorcism charm for his son?

Wang Xiulian, carrying a basin of roughly washed vegetables, walked over to Jiankang and placed the basin heavily on the table, causing the sturdy wooden table to shake.

"What’s wrong with our son lately?” Wang Xiulian asked in a hushed voice.

Jiang Jiankang shook his head,

“I heard there’s a talisman at a nearby temple that’s particularly effective. Should we go tomorrow and get one for Feng to ward off evil spirits?”

"Nonsense, you’re the one who’s possessed!” Wang Xiulian gave Jiang Jiankang a sideways glance, then cautiously looked at Jiang Feng,

“I think we should call Dad over and let him take a look.”

"What good will calling Dad do?” Jiang Jiankang still thought Jiang Feng might be possessed.

"Isn’t Dad’s cooking much better than yours? Feng has been cooking this mushroom soup every day, when Dad comes, he can help him get the soup right, can’t he?” Wang Xiulian dumped out the food and, carrying the large empty plate, went back to continue washing the vegetables,

“Remember to make that call!”

Although Jiang Jiankang felt that getting a talisman from the temple might be more useful, he couldn’t ignore his wife’s words and obediently put down the kitchen knife to go outside and call Sir Jiang.

After listening to Jiang Jiankang describe Jiang Feng’s situation, Sir Jiang fell silent for a long while before agreeing to find time to make a trip to Alan City.

After hanging up, Sir Jiang called out with robust energy to Mrs. Jiang,

“Old lady, fetch that bottle of liquor from the top of the cabinet for me!”

"What do you need that liquor for? In broad daylight, drink, drink, drink, have you cooked the pig feed? Have you washed the vegetables? Did you sweep the yard?” Mrs. Jiang shouted back from her room where she was listening to Huangmei opera.

Sir Jiang wasn’t angry at being shouted at; he went to get the liquor for himself, poured a small shallow cup, and sat beside the table to savor it slowly.

He closed his eyes and began to sing off-key.

Mrs. Jiang came out of the room to fetch the liquor for Sir Jiang, and seeing that he was already drinking and humming a tune, she knew he was in a good mood and asked,

“Who just called to make you so happy?”

As she spoke, Mrs. Jiang went into the kitchen to bring him a small plate of peanuts.

"Feng is doing well, ah, the Jiang family will have a successor!”

Sir Jiang opened his eyes, smiling as he said this.

His five sons, all mimicked cooking like drawing a gourd according to a model, learning exactly what he taught, but how can a chef be so rigid and unadaptable?

He thought that was it for his life, that Jiang Family Dishes would end with him.

But who would have thought, who would have thought, ah, that his grandson, with merely average talent, could achieve such a feat at twenty years old!

Jiang Feng must be obsessed with studying dishes!

Obsession is good, obsession is very good!

Jiang Weiguo still remembered how, when he was a child, his father Jiang Chengde would be so engrossed in researching dishes that for ten days to half a month he would forget about meals, spending all his time in the kitchen working on the same dish, as if he were possessed.

The more Jiang Weiguo thought about it, the more excited he became. He turned to Mrs. Jiang,

“Contact Old Wang tomorrow, let his son come over and slaughter Da Hua.”

"Slaughter Da Hua?” Mrs. Jiang was startled,

“Didn’t you say just a few days ago when Da Hua weighed 260 pounds that you’d wait until she was 280 pounds before slaughtering her?”

"No need to wait, no need! How long will we have to wait until she’s 280 pounds? We’ll do it tomorrow! Da Hua has grown well, with evenly distributed meat, always active; we’ll slaughter her and take her to Alan City to give Feng a proper nourishment,” Jiang Weiguo said.

Now Mrs. Jiang agreed,

“Right, Feng really needs a good nourishment; so skinny, he doesn’t even look like a member of our Jiang family. It’s a shame Jiankang is a chef and still managed to let our grandson become like this.”

“He is too skinny; he must put on at least 40 pounds. His arms need flesh; otherwise, he can’t even handle the wok properly.” Sir Jiang also pondered how to fatten Jiang Feng by 40 pounds into a tall, bulky figure that met the Jiang family’s aesthetic.

"Should I bring along those two old hens I’ve been raising?”

"Bring them, bring them. Also, take the cured game and the wild tea tree mushrooms we gathered. Right, weren’t there mushrooms growing on the warehouse beams? They’re quite plump; I’ll go pick them later to bring as well, since Jiankang said Feng has been making mushroom soup lately – we can bring them for him to make soup!”

Sir Jiang made the final decision.