The Game of Life

Wu Minqi was actually very skilled at cooking porridge.

The Xiaomi porridge, which was one of the signature dishes at Wu Family Restaurant, was made by her. The ingredients were simple, but her fire control was precise, creating a porridge that was soft, mushy, fragrant, sweet, and smooth on the palate. She could flawlessly restore the original taste of the food bringing out the special qualities of the ingredients. She was even confident enough to say that her skill in cooking Xiaomi porridge could match that of a master who had practiced porridge cooking techniques for twenty to thirty years.

But there was a condition to this.

She had to watch it closely.

She needed to be there to adjust the fire control according to the progress of the porridge and to decide when to stir based on the fragrance it emitted. Preciseness was required in deciding when to add what, and how much fire to use. To her, cooking a pot of Xiaomi porridge was no less demanding than cooking dishes for an entire day.

But Jiang Feng was not like that.

She watched as he busied himself with other things, only checking on the pot three times from start to finish. The first time to hold a baby, the second time to add sweet potatoes, and the third time to stir and reduce the heat.

With just that, he managed to cook a pot of sweet potato porridge that was flawless and excellent.

Wu Minqi stared blankly at the sweet potato porridge, her body trembling slightly with excitement.

It felt as if a swordsman, seeking a worthy opponent in their dreams, had finally found one.

"Minqi, your porridge cooking skills are as good as the president’s!” Liu Qian exclaimed, snatching a spoon from her hand and scooping herself a bowl first.

It was full, topped with large chunks of sweet potato.

"The sweet potato porridge wasn’t cooked by me, it was cooked by the president,” Wu Minqi was not one to take credit, and seeing the look of realization on Liu Qian’s face, she became curious,

“Have you tasted the porridge made by the president?”

"I have. During the first few days when their stir-fry restaurant just opened, the president’s porridge was even free. The president’s century egg and lean meat porridge was so well cooked! That taste, that aroma, was simply matchless! Especially soft, how does that saying go? Silky and delicious? No, that’s not it… it’s just particularly good!” Liu Qian couldn’t quite find the words to describe the porridge made by Jiang Feng, but her yearning expression said it all to Wu Minqi; she could not forget that bowl of porridge.

-Why doesn’t he cook it anymore?” Wu Minqi asked casually as she took the ladle back from Liu Qian to serve the porridge.

"The president later started to experiment with soups, and honestly, the soups he made were really bad! He would add random ingredients, everything and anything, all kinds of mushrooms, and it was different every day. Now he no longer makes soup, nor does he cook porridge,” Liu Qian sighed,

“Actually, the president’s cooking skills are pretty good. I’m not criticising him, but his dad and grandpa’s cooking are obviously more delicious. Eating at their restaurant every day is like waiting for a lottery draw, and it would be good if he continued cooking porridge.”

"Of course, a chef must constantly learn,” Wu Minqi still highly endorsed Jiang Feng’s behavior.

The two continued to chat. There always seemed to be more to talk about between people from the same hometown studying away at university, not to mention from the same high school. In the course of conversation, the porridge and the egg custard were served, and everyone got a bottle of warm milk too.

Although others could accept it, the students assigned to moving and cleaning chores were already starving.

Summoned early in the morning and then working physically, anyone would be hungry.

Then their hearts sank when they saw the breakfast.

A bowl of sweet potato or pumpkin porridge, a 245 millilitre bottle of some brand of warm milk, and a small bowl of student-sized egg custard.

The female students who talked with the lonely elderly were okay, but after more than an hour of work, the male students who were naturally more hungry, felt disheartened.

"Um, everyone, there will be noodles later too. If you want noodles, please raise your hand,” Liu Qian shouted loudly.

Almost all of the male students raised their hands, along with some of the teachers, in a manner even more orderly than elementary students answering questions in class.

"Thank goodness there are noodles, or I’d definitely starve to death this morning. Hey, you sneaky kid, you actually brought bread!” The student council staff member drafted as muscle saw his colleague silently pulling four small buns out of his pocket, his eyes widening with desire,

“Come on, share one with me!”

-Aren’t there noodles? Just eat more of those,” his fellow student was reluctant to part with his treasured stash of bread.

-The person who assigned tasks was just making random choices. It’s fine that Jiang Feng can cook, but Liu Qian is practically a mukbang host, and the other girl probably can’t cook that well either. With so many of us, the food will probably all come down to Jiang Feng alone. It would have been better to call on two people from the Home Economics Society. With a bunch of elementary kids messing around in the kitchen, it would be lucky if the noodles are even edible,” the student council staff member argued with reason.

"Give me one, you have four. I still have to move things later and I am about to starve,” the student council staff member pleaded.

His colleague hesitated for a moment, his gaze drawn to a large piece of sweet potato in Jiang Feng’s bowl of porridge, brightly orange and red, appetizing just by looking at it.

"I’ll give you a piece of sweet potato if you share some of your porridge with

Me.”

-Sure!” The student council staffer was very straightforward, having no interest in the porridge, he pushed the bowl towards his colleague.

The colleague picked up the sweet potato with his chopsticks.

The colleague scooped up a large spoonful of porridge.

The colleague then scooped up another large spoonful of porridge.

The colleague again scooped up a large spoonful of porridge.

The colleague yet again scooped up a large spoonful of porridge.

The colleague once more scooped up a large spoonful of porridge.

The bowl was empty.

"Cough, cough.” The colleague wiped his mouth somewhat awkwardly, having originally thought that the piece of sweet potato looked tasty. After trying it, he figured the porridge must be good too. Having tasted a spoonful, he thought he might as well have another, and then everything was irreversibly in the current state.

"Um, I accidentally finished it. Let me give you two small rolls of bread instead,” his colleague attempted to make amends.

"Oh, the sweet potato porridge was that good?” The student council staffer happily accepted the bread, oblivious to what he had missed.

"Not bad, I like sweet potato porridge,” his colleague said seriously. When everyone had almost finished eating, Jiang Feng and the teachers helping him came out with a bucket of noodles and a bucket of noodle soup. He had already contacted Wu Minqi by phone to have the bowls and condiments prepared in advance, so all he had to do when he arrived was to distribute the noodles.

How to describe these noodles?

They were edible, not poison that’s for sure, but rather rough, coarse, broke quite often, irregular in shape, and the texture probably wasn’t much to speak of, likely a bit clumpy.

Edible!

The noodles were distributed to each person, and everyone started devouring their bowl as if it contained a rare delicacy.

Especially those who had sweet potato porridge, who felt even hungrier after the porridge had whetted their appetites.

Jiang Feng was astonished at the scene.

Could it be…

His noodles were actually quite good, his real talent lying in culinary arts, and he had been heading in the wrong direction all these years. He was, in fact, an undiscovered cooking prodigy?

"IS what I made… really that delicious?” Jiang Feng couldn’t help asking aloud. Wu Minqi, who put her bowl down quietly after a single taste, said very frankly,

“It’s because they’re hungry.”

Jiang Feng:…

Oh..