The Game of Life

Director Han couldn’t help but glance at the vegetable bun in his hand.

It was a very ordinary vegetable bun, prepared with pickled vegetables just like in his childhood—except the dough back then was rougher, and they would add bran and rice paste and a bunch of wild vegetables to make a soup, eating it for three meals a day.

Most crucially, this vegetable bun reminded him of his mother, long since passed.

A cook’s daughter’s best dish in her lifetime turned out to be vegetable buns.

"Which student made this pickled vegetable bun?” Director Han couldn’t help but ask.

The student responsible for the pickled vegetable buns was currently being sent to heaven by the spiciness of diced chicken with chili.

Jiang Feng had lost track of how many glasses of water he had drunk— essentially one piece of meat, one gulp of water, his eyes watering from the spiciness.

Jiang Feng even felt his mouth was swelling.

Upon checking, it seemed it really had swollen up.

As a native Shu person, Wu Minqi couldn’t comprehend how Jiang Feng could be overwhelmed by mere diced chicken with chili. She even cared enough for the primary students who couldn’t handle spice to forgo dried chilies and only used fresh ones, sprinkling just an extra handful of Sichuan peppercorns.

During the first twenty years of his life, the spiciest thing Jiang Feng had eaten was the grilled lamb skewers that Chen Xiuxiu had him try in an alley during high school, after which they were so dirty he suffered from vomiting and diarrhea and ended up being on an IV drip in the hospital for two days. But compared to Wu Minqi’s diced chicken, those skewers that had him gasping for air were mild.

For the first time, Jiang Feng profoundly realized that he truly couldn’t handle spicy food.

Despite his lips swelling like a sausage, Jiang Feng still cleaned his plate completely.

"Are we going to cook dinner later?” Wu Minqi asked after eating, perched eagerly in her seat.

Unlike Jiang Feng, who could practice at his home’s restaurant every day, she had been able to help in the kitchen only occasionally when she went home for breaks since starting university. This was her first time actually cooking in Alan City.

Jiang Feng could tell that Minqi was itching to cook.

But he threw cold water on her excitement, ‘We’re not bothering with dinner.”

A look of disappointment spread across Minqi’s face.

"Club President, you have it good, with your restaurant right by the school, being able to stay in the kitchen whenever you want,” Wu Minqi said with undisguised envy.

Thinking about the flavor of the food he had eaten earlier, Jiang Feng suddenly had an idea.

"Do you… have many classes normally?” Jiang Feng knew that Minqi was studying food and nutrition science—a field that might seem easy, but actually involved a heavy workload and belonged to the category of engineering.

"I don’t really go,” Wu Minqi boldly admitted her truancy,

“I thought it was about studying ingredients, but it turned out to be all about chemistry.”

Jiang Feng:…

As everyone knows, those interested in ingredients should go to a certain oriental place.

"Cough, if you’re… not attending classes much, why don’t you come and help at our restaurant? You can use the kitchen as you wish; we’ve got four stoves in our kitchen,” suggested Jiang Feng.

And they were also in need of a Sichuan chef.

Jiang Jiankang had a sweet tooth; spicy dishes did not exist for him.

Finding a spicy dish on the menu meant a loss for the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant.

Minqi’s eyes immediately lit up,

“I can use your kitchen just like that?!”

"Only if a customer orders something.”

"That’s good enough!” Wu Minqi had been crazing to cook that she was almost going mad.

After the National Day holiday this semester, there were no more breaks; before today, Minqi hadn’t touched a kitchen knife or a pot for nearly three months—she even dreamt of cutting radish threads in her sleep.

In some sense, she could be considered obsessed with cooking.

"Come by whenever you have time,” Jiang Feng mentioned, pointedly ignoring the topic of salary.

Minqi was completely oblivious to the fact that Jiang Feng was essentially inviting her to work as a chef in his restaurant. She was even inwardly grateful to Jiang for providing her with a place to sharpen her culinary skills, considering that she also wasn’t paid when helping out at the Wu Family Restaurant.

Besides, she wasn’t short on money; although Old Sir Wu was stringent about the younger generation’s culinary skills, he was very generous with money. As long as it didn’t involve vice, the funds were there for free spending.

Having reached a friendly agreement, the pair began to wander aimlessly.

That afternoon, students from the Music and Dance Academy were scheduled to perform for the elderly, and Jiang Feng decided to head over early to secure a good spot. Normally, tickets for activities organized by the academy were snatched up fiercely, and the Chess Club would be lucky to get two seats along the outer edge by the door. Jiang had been once before, where he couldn’t even make out the faces of the dancing girls on stage.

This time, Jiang Feng was determined to snag an early seat!

Before he could find where the performance hall was, he was whisked away by the omnipotent Mr. Chen, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Director Han is looking for you!” Mr. Chen dragged Jiang Feng to the performance hall.

Would you believe it—Director Han was at the performance hall.

"Who’s Director Han?” Jiang Feng was completely unaware of Morning Wind Primary School’s internal personnel structure.

"Director Han is one of our school’s five directors. He would like to talk with you about the vegetable bun you made at lunch,” was all Mr. Chen knew.

Jiang Feng felt a surge of apprehension.

Could it be that nowadays the rich are so fastidious that they could get sick from eating a pickled vegetable bun? It’s all because of the refined foods they eat, not coarse grains!

Jiang Feng followed Mr. Chen to the performance hall with unease.

Everyone was decorating the venue, which essentially involved a bunch of primary school students placing fresh flowers on seats and sticking decorations made of plastic and ribbons to the walls—decorations that were quite ugly at first glance, clearly handmade by everyone.

No signs of UAL University students; they were probably all backstage preparing.

Jiang Feng had heard that the students from the Music and Dance Academy had rehearsed for several weeks for this performance, taking it very seriously.

Only someone like Jiang Feng, who paid no attention to the event, just learned today that the volunteer location was Morning Wind Primary School; Liu Qian had known three days in advance.

Director Han is on the second floor.

After leading the visitor upstairs, Mr. Chen discretely left, leaving only Director Han and Jiang Feng alone.

Jiang Feng couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous, but seeing Director Han smiling genially, he didn’t seem to be the type to cause trouble over a bad meal. At the same time, Jiang was puzzled as to why the director of a private noble primary school would seek him out, a student from UAL University.

What’s crucial is that Jiang Feng found the Director Han across from him somewhat familiar.

It seemed like he had seen the man himself or his photo recently.

Could it be… a customer at the restaurant?

Had the clientele of Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant risen to such lofty ranks?

"Mr. Jiang,” Director Han began,

“don’t be nervous. I have come to ask a favor of you.”

"Ding.”

Jiang Feng: ???

What’s with the game’s ‘ding’??? Speak up, you clearly have customer service but still receive player feedback; if you have the guts to update, then finish the next sentence!

The game had no response.

"Um… Mr. Han, have we met before?” Jiang Feng felt that referring to Director Han by his title wasn’t quite right as he wasn’t a student at Morning Wind Primary School, but the more he looked at Director Han, the more familiar he became.

Director Han paused for a moment, then said with a laugh,

“Mr. Jiang might have seen my photo. I forgot to introduce myself; I am Han Guishan.”

Han Guishan!

The boss of Good Taste!

Jiang Feng now knew why Han Guishan looked familiar to him; he had browsed the Good Taste official website that morning when searching for the competition, and Han’s photo was displayed there.

Furthermore…

The photo seemed to have been retouched compared to the real person.

The eyes were enlarged, and there was a liberal use of skin smoothing, whitening, and slimming effects.

"May I ask, Mr. Han, what do you need my help with?” Jiang Feng asked, doubting that the boss of Good Taste needed his help.

"It’s like this, I had the good fortune to taste your pickled vegetable dumplings at lunch today, and I thought the bittersweet sentiment they conveyed was excellent. I’d like to implement an educational activity about recalling the past’s hardships and appreciating the present’s sweetness at my company. So, I’d like to ask you to make a batch of pickled vegetable dumplings just like the ones today,” said Han Guishan.

Jiang Feng was somewhat speechless with surprise.

The boss of Good Taste sure had unique ideas; even eating a dumpling could inspire him to start an educational activity at his company.

However, since pickled vegetable dumplings were from the game’s recipes, Jiang Feng could only make 60 a day, so he responded,

“I’m sorry, Mr. Han, but I can only make 60 of these pickled vegetable dumplings per day at most, which might not meet your needs.”

“60 is enough. Ten a day will suffice,” said Han Guishan, noticing the surprise in Jiang Feng’s eyes and explaining,

“I intend to introduce this activity gradually, starting with the company’s upper management.”

Jiang Feng:…

This Mr. Han indeed had very original thoughts, his reasoning and thought processes were completely different from the average person.

"Ten a day is not a problem at all. One batch is six, so two batches would be twelve. What do you think?” Jiang Feng said.

"Additionally, I have another somewhat inconvenient request. Could I ask Mr. Jiang to come to my house to make these pickled vegetable dumplings?” Han Guishan continued.

Jiang Feng: ???

What’s up with Mr. Han and his obsession with pickled vegetable dumplings?

"It’s like this, I want to learn how to make this dish so I can cook it for my son after some time. That boy has been pampered from a young age; he could use a bit of hardship. Price is not a problem, and I apologize for the inconvenience of asking you to make a trip. How does a compensation of a thousand a day sound?” asked Han Guishan.

A thousand!

The millionaire Jiang Feng was stunned on the spot by Han Guishan’s generosity.

Though Mr. Han had some unconventional ideas and a unique perspective, he was very generous! Jiang had only thought to ask for six RMB per dumpling, expecting some bargaining, but Han Guishan offered a thousand RMB without hesitation.

A thousand RMB for 12 dumplings – there’s no dumpling you couldn’t buy with that.

Jiang Feng agreed on the spot.

And then he got Han Guishan’s WeChat.

As Jiang Feng walked downstairs, he felt as if he were floating.

It was as if money was falling from the sky, avoiding everyone else and targeting only Jiang Feng, even the breeze felt like it was fanning with RMB.

Just as Jiang Feng reached the door, he was abruptly stopped by an eagle-eyed student council secretary.

"Jiang Feng, what were you doing on the second floor? Oh, and your performance? You’re the only one who hasn’t submitted a performance yet.” The student council secretary had a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Performance, what performance?” Jiang Feng’s brain, muddled by money, sobered up slightly.

"The performance this afternoon. Every club has to submit one. Didn’t the student council text you about it last week? Didn’t you get the message?” asked the student council secretary.

Jiang Feng took out his phone, searched for a while, and finally found the student council’s notification from last week in the spam messages.

As for why the student council secretary’s number had been blocked…

Jiang Feng silently looked to the heavens.

"Perform… perform…” Jiang Feng really couldn’t think of any special skills beyond eating, sleeping, and cooking, so he resignedly declared,

“I’ll perform chopping vegetables.”

"Huh? Chopping vegetables?” The student council secretary was taken aback.

"Yes, chopping vegetables!”