The Game of Life TGOL-Chapter 434 - 432: The Moment at the Third Quarter of the Noon Time

Chapter 434: Chapter 432: The Moment at the Third Quarter of the Noon Time

After the National Day holiday ended, everything returned to normal.

Wang Hao’s internship at the advertising company officially began. Every day he served tea, poured water, and bought coffee, buns, fried dough, and soybean juice. From his first day at work, he made an effort to build good relationships with his colleagues and soon learned where the cheapest meals and most conscientious boxed lunches were available near the company and the employee dormitory.

Wang Hao also struck up a deep friendship with an older, thirty-year-old single male colleague who lived upstairs and knew how to cook. Whenever he had free time, he would go mooch a meal—though it wasn’t entirely for nothing, as he lent the colleague his Steam account.

Thanks to his good relations with the staff, Wang Hao managed to survive on the little over a hundred yuan in his card until the 15th, when he received his living expenses, paid off the installments he owed on Huabei, and started a new cycle of debt.

Jiang Weisheng, who during the National Day break had an epiphany on cooking like a character in a martial arts novel overcoming a years-long bottleneck, only realized something was off a week later when he noticed customers’ feedback on his bizarre-tasting soup. He absentmindedly asked Jiang Weiming if his “strange-flavored” soup had improved since customers suddenly rated it so high, which caused Jiang Weiming to laugh and curse him several times as a “melon seedling.”

“I thought you had figured it out long ago, but it turns out you’ve been wasting your time making soup these days. What, you only make soup for your customers to taste and never try it yourself?” Jiang Weisheng asked just after lunch service had ended. Only he, Jiang Weiming, Jiang Feng, Wu Minqi, and Ji Xia were left in the kitchen, so Jiang Weiming spoke without controlling his volume.

“I have tasted it,” Jiang Weisheng still sounded a bit dazed.

“Is your tongue just for show? You tasted it but don’t know why? You didn’t notice anything different at all?” At this point, Jiang Weiming was both angry and amused, wishing he could crack open Jiang Weisheng’s head to see if it was really made of wood, because how else could one explain his blockheadedness?

“Master, that’s not what I mean. I noticed it, the taste is just like the original, but the sensation has changed, it’s like… like the soup you used to make, it’s different when drinking it, but I don’t know why. The steps I took were no different than before,” Jiang Weisheng hastily defended himself.

Jiang Weiming shook his head resignedly: “Do you still remember why I refused to teach you the Soup of a Hundred Flavors when you first asked to learn it?”

“You said I wouldn’t be able to learn it,” replied Jiang Weisheng.

“There’s much you can’t learn: chicken juice tofu, plain boiled cabbage, camphor tea duck—which of these have you mastered? Have I not taught you every one of them? Let’s not talk about the rest; for years now, you’ve only managed to scrape a passing grade in making water-boiled beef. The Soup of a Hundred Flavors may be difficult, but it’s just a soup. It doesn’t have complex processes or require high-level techniques. In my opinion, you’ve learned the Soup of a Hundred Flavors much better than you ever did water-boiled beef,” Jiang Weiming declared.

“Then…” Jiang Weisheng became puzzled.

“You’ve remembered wrong. At just over sixty years old, how is your memory worse than this old man’s? I didn’t want to teach you because you weren’t suited to make that dish.”

“Life has five flavors: sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and salty. I originally wanted to call it ‘Soup of Five Flavors,’ but life holds more than just five flavors, so I later changed its name to ‘Soup of a Hundred Flavors.’ What truly tests a chef isn’t their skill level, but the person themselves. Just as a soup has a hundred flavors, so does a person. The richer the cook’s experiences, the richer the soup’s flavor. The Soup of a Hundred Flavors is not meant to be bland—it’s robust, a complex mix of various ingredients.”

“I can make this soup because I’ve experienced sour, bitter, spicy, and salty. Granted, it’s regrettable to have a bit less sweetness, but it’s enough for me. But you can’t, Weisheng, not to be harsh, but you’ve had it too easy in life. You’ve never left home or been away from your parents, except for learning to cook, you’ve never tasted hardship, and even when it came to the common rite of passage of chasing a girl, you succeeded on your first try and smoothly lived most of your life as if you were soaked in honey, never even grasping what sweetness is. If it weren’t for your running away from home and taking that first long trip, and if Zhang Li hadn’t brought your son, daughter-in-law, and grandson to see you during the National Day, I’d wager you still wouldn’t comprehend sweetness,” said Jiang Weiming, laughing as he spoke, filled with both satisfaction and envy.

“Does that mean, I… I…” Jiang Weisheng stammered with excitement.

“You’re finally getting a hint of it. If you can grasp two flavors, you’ll be considered having mastered the Soup of a Hundred Flavors,” Jiang Weiming said with a smile.

Jiang Weisheng’s face flushed with excitement, like a primary schooler rarely praised by a teacher, and he stuttered as he asked, “Then Master, how should I comprehend the other four flavors?”

If Jiang Weiming had pulled out a secret martial arts manual at this moment and told Jiang Weisheng to practice according to it, he might have believed it.

“How to comprehend it is your own affair, how could I possibly know,” Jiang Weiming said helplessly.

“Isn’t there some trick or knack? Master, how did you figure it out when you were learning?” Jiang Weisheng pressed on.

Jiang Weiming could only shake his head and turn to prepare for his visit to the teahouse for tea and a chat: “As for tricks, there are some. You could try crawling out from a pile of corpses or running into deep forests and mountains like I did back in the day—I promise you’ll grasp the bitter, spicy, and salty flavors then. You have grasped sweetness and still aren’t content? Born in an era of peace, and you still feel hard done by? Many people dream of living a life like yours, only knowing sweetness without experiencing the other four flavors. Alright, you must be tired from working all morning. Find a place to rest. I’m off to the teahouse before it gets too crowded.”

Jiang Weiming left, and Jiang Weisheng stayed in the kitchen to continue practicing the Soup of a Hundred Flavors. He still needed to ponder the mysteries of the now-sweet Soup of a Hundred Flavors. Though he made the soup, the profoundness eluded him.

“Master, what did the third elder master mean by bitter, spicy, salty, and that ‘sweet’ thing earlier? Do you really need to comprehend the flavors yourself? Can’t you just add seasoning?” Ji Xia, who had been sitting on the side peeling oranges and listening attentively to the conversation between Jiang Weiming and Jiang Weisheng, voiced his doubts like a student struggling with grades.

Lately, Jiang Feng had been practicing stuffed crab in orange cups and had roped in Ji Xia to assist him. Ji Xia had successfully transitioned from a skillful crab picker to a mediocre orange peeler.

It took Jiang Feng only ten minutes to prepare an orange, whereas Ji Xia needed half an hour and often required Jiang Feng to redo the work due to substandard quality, like needing manual welding when machine welding fails.

Jiang Feng: “…”

Xiaxia would definitely not score well on reading comprehension in Chinese.

“You’re not there yet. Those with higher skill levels cook with their heart and spirit, while at your level you can’t even properly use seasoning, let alone ponder high-level cooking methods,” Jiang Feng’s reply was perfunctory.

Ji Xia looked toward Wu Minqi again, feeling that her master was ‘leading a donkey’.

“You’re right,” Wu Minqi affirmed.

Ji Xia: ???

Cook with heart?

Cook with intention?

Ji Xia remembered the story Wang Hao, a friend of her master during the National Day holiday, had told her about Jiang’s Star Blade Skill, mesmerizing cuisine, cooking with intention, the pinnacle of culinary arts. Ji Xia had always thought Wang Hao was spouting nonsense because Jiang Feng had also told her never to believe a single ghost story that Wang Hao told.

But it turned out to be true!

There really was cooking with intention!

Then Jiang’s Star Blade Skill must also be true, with all that about a glint of cold light being first to the strike, followed by a dragon-like swipe of the blade, naturally protective when unsheathed, making it difficult for others to approach, let alone open their eyes—a blade technique that was certainly true!

Ji Xia was instantly excited, forgetting about the orange in her hand, “Master, I want to learn the blade skill!”

Jiang Feng: ???

Why don’t you say you want to play basketball?

“Which blade skill? Isn’t that what you practice every day at the Li Mansion? Even now, the knifework you’re practicing with this orange is knifework,” Jiang Feng said.

“I want to learn Jiang’s Star Blade Skill!”

Jiang Feng: …

Wu Minqi: …

Wu Minqi was so startled that the orange almost slipped from her hand, giving Jiang Feng a look that said ‘this child must be silly’.

Jiang Feng sighed and asked, “Did Wang Hao tell you about it?”

Ji Xia nodded.

“There is no Jiang’s Star Blade Skill, finish this orange and then head to the Li Mansion,” Jiang Feng said, setting down his orange, “I’m going to make a phone call.”

Jiang Feng went to the changing room, took out his mobile phone from the cupboard, and began to dial, but Wang Hao answered after just one ring.

“Hello, Feng, what’s up?” Wang Hao asked.

“Hao, you haven’t been to the shop for a while, have you? Are you free tomorrow noon? I recently learned from my uncle how to wrap wontons; I’ll make you a bowl!” Jiang Feng’s words were incredibly amiable.

“Wontons? Feng, I remember your menu has your wontons, how come you’ve recently learned new ones?” Wang Hao asked, unsuspecting.

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but reveal a false smile: “It’s not the same, my uncle and I learned a new kind of wonton, everyone who tries them says they’re good. What are we if not friends, of course, you’d be the first person I think of. Are you free tomorrow noon?”

“I’m free, but I might come a bit later, around one o’clock,” Wang Hao said.

“Not late at all, that time is perfect,” Jiang Feng said with a smile.

The Moment at the Third Quarter of the Noon Time.

It was a good time indeed.