Chapter 26

Wang Shouren shot a look at his son and placed a bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall in front of Wang Shoucheng. “I’ve only ever heard about this dish before, but not a single restaurant in our Zibo City can make it. If it weren’t for this little girl opening a small shop, I wouldn’t have had the good luck to taste it today.”

Wang Zhenhe quickly stood up. “Dad, let me serve it.”

Wang Shouren immediately blocked his arm. “Nope, I’m afraid you’ll steal a bite.”

Faced with such a blunt father, Wang Zhenhe nearly fell to his knees. “Come on, Dad, even my uncle is here—don’t say that, it’s embarrassing.”

Realizing that his son was at least an official of some rank, so he ought to save him a little face, Wang Shouren finally handed over the ladle reluctantly. “Just don’t take too much. A sip of soup is enough.”

Wang Zhenhe almost threw the ladle into the pot but, inhaling the scent lingering at the tip of his nose, obediently shut his mouth instead. After all, he was the one who offended his father with the wrong words at the start. There was nothing he could do but bear it.

After Wang Zhenhe served his father a full bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall and was just about to serve himself, Wang Shouren took a sip of the soup and was surprised by how flavorful it was. Suddenly regretting his earlier generosity, he said, “You know what, maybe you’d better not drink the soup. Just have some water.”

Wang Zhenhe gave him a silent glance, then suddenly reached out and filled a whole bowl for himself, soup and all. Wang Shouren bared his teeth in frustration, practically itching to slap him away.

While the father and son on one side were almost ready to sever ties over a bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, on the other side, Wang Shoucheng was thoroughly immersed in its rich flavor. He had tasted this dish when entertaining foreign guests in the Imperial Capital. Back then, each small pot contained who knew how many precious ingredients. He never expected someone in little Zibo City could make it too—and make it even tastier than what he’d had in the Imperial Capital.

Wang Shoucheng gently stirred the contents of his bowl with a spoon. The broth was crystal clear, with a delicate aroma of wine drifting up. He took a spoonful of clear soup and was immediately captivated by its rich and savory taste, downing the whole bowl in one go.

After savoring the soup, Wang Shoucheng picked out the abalone from the bowl. After two days and nights of simmering, the abalone had absorbed the full richness of the soup without losing its unique texture. Each bite was tender, fresh, and savory.

Before he knew it, Wang Shoucheng had polished off his bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. He subconsciously reached for the spoon again, only to bump hands with Wang Shouren and Wang Zhenhe.

With a cheerful smile, Wang Shouren took the spoon and served Wang Shoucheng another bowl. “How’s this little girl’s cooking? Suit your taste?”

Recollecting the taste he’d just experienced, Wang Shoucheng couldn’t help nodding. “She doesn’t look very old, but her skills are extraordinary. Her Buddha Jumps Over the Wall blends dozens of ingredients into a deeply savory broth while maintaining the distinct flavor of each item. It’s soft yet crisp, richly meaty without being greasy, and the aroma is both alluring and long-lasting. Honestly, it’s better than what I’ve had from chefs in the Imperial Capital.”

Wang Shouren was overjoyed to hear this. He had only expected Qian Jianing’s cooking to earn a modest “not bad” from his cousin but never imagined such high praise. “Come on, third brother, are you seriously saying a chef from our small town is better than the ones at the Imperial Capital’s top restaurants?”

Wang Shoucheng laughed. “I won’t vouch for other dishes, but as far as Buddha Jumps Over the Wall goes, I haven’t had one better.”

Wang Shouren’s face lit up at those words as if the compliment were for him personally. His eyes narrowed with delight. “You really know your food. Not like some people…” He shot his son a sideways glance. “Not a high-ranking official, yet full of airs, looking down on small shops. And look what that small shop got you today—would you have tasted Buddha Jumps Over the Wall otherwise? Let’s be honest, you’re just riding your uncle’s coattails today.”

Wang Zhenhe didn’t dare utter a word. He knew his old man was notoriously petty and couldn’t stand being slighted.

After two bowls of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, the three of them were almost full. Just then, Qian Jianing brought out a plate of golden, deep-fried Pipa Prawns. This was a traditional Beijing dish that Wang Shoucheng had also eaten numerous times in the Imperial Capital. He picked one up, dipped it in spiced salt, and popped it into his mouth—only to be pleasantly surprised. The shell was crispy yet didn’t prick the mouth, and the prawn meat was tender, juicy, and bursting with flavor.

Wang Shoucheng raised his eyebrows. “I take back what I said earlier—aside from Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, this Pipa Prawn is also exceptional.”

Halfway through the prawns, Qian Jianing brought out another two dishes—spicy quail and braised fish maw rolls. Finally, she served two baskets of crab roe soup dumplings and said, “Your meal is complete. Please enjoy.”

Wang Shouren, busy gnawing on quail, burped and still found time to gnaw a few more bites. “Xiaomi, your cooking is incredible. My cousin came all the way from the Imperial Capital, and even he says your food is better than the chefs from the top hotels there.”

Qian Jianing wasn’t surprised by this comment. Although she hadn’t trained long, the one who taught her culinary arts was none other than the god of cookery from the Immortal Realm. No one in this world could surpass him in culinary skill. Moreover, after learning from him, Qian Jianing had revisited his journey through dreams—from an apprentice to a celebrated chef to achieving immortality. Her understanding of food, her ingredient pairings, her obsession with flavor, and her mastery of cooking times had all reached perfection. She truly grasped the essence of “cuisine.” She was confident that no matter the dish—familiar or not—she could recreate the most delicious version. Even if all she had was a single scallion, she could turn it into gourmet fare.

Still, no matter how proud she was of her skills, humility in front of others was essential. She smiled politely at Wang Shoucheng and said modestly, “You’re too kind. I just follow recipes and cook randomly. It’s lucky everyone appreciates it.”

Wang Shoucheng’s cheek muscles twitched. He thought this girl came from a family of chefs or was trained by one of his elders. What did she mean she just followed recipes?

Wang Shouren didn’t think anything was amiss and chimed in enthusiastically. “That’s right! The first time she sold food at our market, she was just selling raw shredded potatoes, said she had just learned how to slice vegetables.”

Wang Shoucheng looked at her with great interest. “You don’t seem that old—how long ago did you start learning to cook?”

“No, just two months ago, during summer break.” Wang Shouren answered for her. “She was hilarious back then—every day we asked what she’d sell tomorrow, and she’d say she didn’t know, had to go home and study a recipe first.”

Wang Shoucheng felt this convo couldn’t go on. No real chef learns to cook just by reading recipes. He figured the girl must’ve been joking with the old folks who came to buy food, and his gullible cousin took her seriously. But all jokes aside, no matter who had taught this child, one thing was undeniable—her talent was real. Otherwise, with her age and experience, she’d be lucky just to be on knife duty in a kitchen, let alone cook meals that surpassed those in the Imperial Capital.

Still, Wang Shoucheng felt none of that had much to do with him. He had simply returned home and enjoyed a delicious meal. Maybe, when he went back to the Imperial Capital, he’d feel a bit more nostalgic for home.

Patting his slightly bloated belly, Wang Shoucheng hesitated, then reached for another crab roe soup dumpling. Stuffed or not, he didn’t know when he’d get to eat this again.

Watching the three of them approach their clean-plate mission with both joy and suffering, Qian Jianing gave a helpless smile, went to the kitchen, and brought back a pot of her homemade crystal sugar hawthorn juice. “Drink a bit after; it’ll help with digestion.”

The wall clock chimed nine times. Wang Shouren quickly pulled some cash from his pocket to pay the bill. Wang Zhenhe let out a burp and said to Wang Shouren, “Dad, let’s not leave just yet. Let’s sit and chat a bit.”

Wang Shouren rolled his eyes. “The little boss here has a rule—shop closes at nine. She still has school tomorrow. We shouldn’t stay too late.”

“She’s still a student?” Wang Zhenhe felt like his worldview had been shattered. What kind of school was this? Was it specifically for culinary arts?

Rubbing his stomach, Wang Zhenhe got up. He noticed that every table had someone go to the window to pay, and the little boss never counted the cash—just took it and tossed it into the money box behind her, then started with the next customer. Seizing the chance, he hurried to pay, handing Qian Jianing a stack of exact bills. She glanced at it and tossed it into her box, then pulled out the precise amount of change from beneath the pile and handed it back.

Wang Zhenhe was stunned by this skill. What he didn’t know was that Qian Jianing’s confidence in grabbing the exact change wasn’t due to some supernatural ability, but because she carried a Treasure Bowl. And with how stingy that thing was, not even a cent could go missing without a fight!

****

After sending off the guests, Qian Jianing tied up the wad of cash from the register with a rubber band and placed it in her backpack. Then she carried the extra pot of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall home. That day, Li Wanzhen had gotten home a bit late and had just washed her hands, preparing to cook, when she saw Qian Jianing walking in with the clay pot.

“What’s that?” Li Wanzhen asked casually.

Qian Jianing smiled. “It’s called Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Very complex to make—requires lots of ingredients and a long cooking time. One of the guests ordered it today, and I made a bit extra so you could all try it.”

Qian Guosheng quickly guided Li Wanzhen into a chair. “You’re just in time—have some now while you’re hungry.” Qian Jianing brought out a few bowls and set them on the table. “Dad, want to try a bite too?”

“I already had dinner, so I’ll skip—” He had just started when Qian Jianing lifted the lid, and he was instantly hit by the rich aroma. The hot steam seemed to shimmer like silver, drawing him in for a taste. “Maybe I’ll have a bowl too—see what it’s like.”

Hearing the noise, Qian Jiafeng, already in bed, got up on his own, washed his hands, and sat next to Li Wanzhen, waiting for his sister to serve the soup. Qian Jianing served a bowl to Li Wanzhen first, then glanced at Jiafeng. “You’re already chubby enough—no more eating for you.”

Qian Jiafeng swallowed hard and held up his pudgy index finger. “Just one bowl, please?”

Qian Jianing couldn’t take that pitiful look. With a sigh, she relented and gave him half a bowl. “Then you’re getting up at five a.m. tomorrow.”

Jiafeng shuddered. “Why so early?”

“To train!”

Qian Jianing flashed a set of pearly whites, smiling sweetly. But in Jiafeng’s eyes, that smile was straight out of a fairy tale—specifically the kind with a big bad wolf grandma.

“If you want him to train, I’ll sign him up for a class,” said Li Wanzhen between mouthfuls. “How could he train on his own?”

Qian Jianing sipped some soup and smiled at her. “No need to enroll anywhere. I can teach him myself.”

Qian Guosheng looked up in shock. “Wait, did you buy one of those one-yuan Shaolin martial arts books from the shop by the bookstore?”