Chapter 8

Compared to Qian Guosheng, Li Wanzhen was the more decisive one. Once persuaded by Qian Jianing, she seriously started considering doing business herself. Selling food was a low-cost, high-return venture. Opening a shop, as Jianing had suggested, wasn’t impossible, but Li Wanzhen believed it would be more profitable to push a food cart around until she built a reputation. Although this would be more exhausting, Li Wanzhen didn’t mind hard work—after all, no one ever got rich by simply enjoying an easy life.

Having made up her mind, Li Wanzhen decided that she’d go talk to the Factory Director the next day and negotiate her compensation, making sure not a single cent was left out. Their family couldn’t be taken advantage of forever. They already had a foolish husband who was willing to sacrifice everything—if she followed suit, their life would be unbearable.

Even though she knew Qian Guosheng’s way of doing things over the years had caused suffering for their two children, Li Wanzhen didn’t want to speak ill of him in front of them. Staring at the ceiling, she sighed, “Your dad is just too earnest. Your grandpa was an old revolutionary, and when your dad was little, he’d keep telling him to be selfless, to put others before himself. Then when he started working, he constantly learned from those stories about selfless dedication and being a reliable workhorse. Actually, back then, the whole factory promoted this kind of thing—but no one else took it as seriously as your dad. He wouldn’t even accept the benefits he rightfully deserved, like it would be a betrayal of the country or something! He’s so honest he borders on foolish.”

In her past life, Qian Jianing had also resented Qian Guosheng for these reasons. But living this life again, she could now see things more clearly. She gently held Li Wanzhen’s hand and smiled, “Mom, I know what kind of person Dad is. Don’t worry, I won’t argue with him anymore. Actually, over the years, Dad spent nearly all his salary on the three of us. He saved up every day just to buy me and Jiafeng ice pops, never spending a cent on himself. I saw his socks yesterday—they had layers of patches on them. How could I stay mad at him?”

“It’s good you understand.” Li Wanzhen patted her hand, her face filled with relief. “You’ve grown up—you’re sensible now!”

The minute hand on the clock moved to twelve. Qian Jianing yawned and drifted off to sleep. Seeing her hair damp with sweat, Li Wanzhen picked up a palm-leaf fan and gently fanned her daughter.

In her dream, Qian Jianing entered a familiar room. Curiously, Food Elder wasn’t lounging on the sofa playing with his phone but instead stood at the counter preparing ingredients. Treasure Bowl sat on a high stool in front of the kitchen island, his chubby little legs swinging in the air. When he saw Qian Jianing, his face lit up with a cute smile, his voice sweet and childish, “Xiaomi, you’re here! Today Food Elder says he’s going to teach you how to make cold noodles.”

The moment she heard they were making cold noodles, Qian Jianing breathed a sigh of relief. A few days ago, Food Elder had gone on a dough-making spree—steamed buns, dumplings, shumai… he had her make who knows how many types of steaming hot food. During her street vending sessions, the steam nearly made her faint. Fortunately, her food had gained a reputation by now. Especially in the western part of the city where she often set up her stall, within a month, she had spoiled the locals. Many families’ elders and children no longer ate breakfast at home but came early to wait at her stall. Some even made bets on what dish she’d cook that day—but no one had ever guessed correctly.

Food Elder pulled out a bowl of cleaned and dried mung beans, “Today I’ll teach you to make mung bean cold skin noodles. First, we grind the mung beans into flour.”

Qian Jianing was a bit confused—would she need to find a mill or something tomorrow to grind them? She wasn’t sure how Food Elder handled flour grinding, but surely celestial methods made it easier than mortal ones.

While her imagination ran wild, Food Elder pulled a blender from the cupboard, poured the mung beans in, switched it on, and picked up his phone to go watch videos on the sofa.

Qian Jianing stared in disbelief, “Even immortals keep up with the times now? I thought you’d use magic!”

“There are no shortcuts in cooking. If I could just use magic, why bother cooking at all? I could just snap my fingers every day.” Food Elder glanced up from his phone with a serious tone, “Magic isn’t omnipotent. Don’t let yourself get lazy.”

Qian Jianing looked down, ashamed, and promised she’d never think of slacking off again. Ten minutes later, Food Elder took the ground mung bean flour to settle, and Qian Jianing followed behind and asked, “How long does it have to settle?”

“By regular standards, ten hours.” That stunned Qian Jianing. “So what do we do for the next ten hours?”

“Who’s dumb enough to actually wait ten hours?” Food Elder tapped the bowl, and the mung bean flour changed instantly. “Just speed it up with magic, and we can go to the next step.”

Qian Jianing was speechless. “Didn’t you just say there were no shortcuts and that we shouldn’t rely on magic?”

“But when it’s usable, why waste time?” Food Elder replied smugly. “Kid, you’re too rigid. You gotta be flexible, understand? So young yet so stubborn!”

Qian Jianing could only concede—fine, fine, fine. You’re the immortal; whatever you say is right. It’s not like I know magic anyway!

Food Elder poured the settled mung bean mixture into a small bucket, stirred it quickly with water, and then poured it onto a steaming tray in a large basin. Qian Jianing watched his every move closely. Food Elder spun the tray skillfully. Once it was evenly heated at the bottom, he introduced cold water, and a paper-thin sheet of mung bean skin was lifted out of the water.

He placed the finished cold noodles in a clean rack. After washing his hands, he pointed at a bag of mung beans on the floor. “Make a thousand sheets tonight and sell them directly tomorrow.”

This lit a fire under Qian Jianing. Over the last month, with guidance from Food Elder and occasional Immortal Realm delicacies, her culinary skills had taken off. She could replicate dishes by watching them made just once.

Three hours later, the whole bag of mung beans had turned into a thousand translucent, crystal-like sheets. Food Elder picked up the top one and nodded approvingly. With a sweep of his sleeve, the mess on the kitchen counter vanished, and new ingredients magically appeared.

“Huaguo (China) is vast and rich in resources, and its food culture is equally diverse. Today, we start learning regional cuisine. I’ll give you some secret manuals.”

A thick stack of books magically appeared and thudded onto Qian Jianing’s lap. Luckily, her strength had increased lately; otherwise, they might’ve knocked her over. The top book had a picture of “Big Plate Chicken” on the cover—looked like a clearance item from a bookstore that had been collecting dust for ages.

Setting the books aside, Qian Jianing focused seriously on watching Food Elder cook. When it came to cooking, he truly didn’t use magic—washing, cutting, and cooking were all done by hand. Teaching someone to fish was better than giving them fish. As she had learned the basics, Food Elder now began from ingredient selection, teaching her regional classics while thoroughly explaining cooking techniques, heat control, and seasoning methods.

For five straight hours, Food Elder demonstrated 180 classic dishes, filling up a 20-meter table. Treasure Bowl had long since jumped down from his stool and now drooled over the delicious spread, reluctant to eat first while one was teaching with effort and the other learning seriously.

Placing the Sweet and Sour Spare Ribs on the table, Food Elder beckoned to Qian Jianing kindly, “Come and eat!”

“This many dishes… it’s like an imperial banquet!” Qian Jianing didn’t even know where to start. Tasting just a bite of each would still be too much.

Food Elder pulled out a jar, poured himself a cup of liquor. As soon as Treasure Bowl smelled it, his eyes lit up. He grinned at Food Elder, “Food Elder, pour me a cup too?”

“You’re just a little rascal! What’re you doing drinking?” Food Elder glanced at the bright red bellyband Treasure Bowl was wearing and scoffed, “Want me to warm you some milk instead?” Though he said that, Food Elder still took out two glasses, filled them with celestial wine, and with a wave of his hand, the glasses flew—one to Qian Jianing, one to Treasure Bowl.

“Xiaomi, once this meal is finished, it’s time for us to part.” Food Elder took a sip and set down the glass. “Though you weren’t officially my disciple, I did teach you something. Let me give you a parting gift.”

He brushed his beaded bracelet, and an old wooden box appeared in his hand. “These are the knives I brought with me from the mortal world when I ascended. I’m giving them to you. Use them well.”

Qian Jianing’s nose tingled. She stood up, walked over, and gave Food Elder three respectful kowtows. “Thank you, Master, for your teachings.”

Staring at her bowed head, Food Elder sighed softly, “I hope you don’t waste this second life.”

Then he vanished from his chair. Treasure Bowl took a glowing ring from his pocket and tossed it into the air. “Here’s money to rebuild your workshop.”

“Thanks!” Food Elder’s hearty laugh rang out and then faded away.

Qian Jianing stood dazed, staring at Food Elder’s empty seat. “He’s gone back?”

“He was only a divine projection anyway,” Treasure Bowl mumbled, stuffing a glossy red piece of Dongpo pork into his mouth. Oil covered his lips as he took a sip of wine and raised his glass to Qian Jianing. “Quit spacing out. Eat up. These are Food Elder’s dishes—they’re good for you.”

Chopsticks in hand, Qian Jianing began eating from one end of the table. With every bite, she recalled how the dish was made, memorizing its flavor and technique. She didn’t know how long she had eaten. When she felt completely full, a pill flew into her mouth, turned into dew-like liquid, and instantly made her feel light again, as if she could eat a whole cow.

One hundred and eighty dishes later, Qian Jianing finally raised the cup that Food Elder had poured for her, drained it in one gulp, and fell heavily to the ground—fast asleep.

In her dream, Qian Jianing found herself in ancient times, standing dazed on a bustling street. Had she time-traveled again? Just as she froze in confusion, a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy entered her sight. She stood thunderstruck—he looked exactly like a young version of Food Elder.

Suddenly it hit her—that was what the wine was for.

She silently followed Food Elder, witnessing his journey from apprentice to royal chef. Unlike her, his path had been arduous. He spent three years just washing vegetables before being allowed to touch a knife. From humble beginnings to renowned chef, then royal cook—Qian Jianing witnessed his hardship and also grasped the true essence of “food.”

She slowly opened her eyes, her mind clear as day.