Chapter 43

The table was filled with dishes. Even if the two of them ate until they were stuffed, there was still plenty left over. When Fatty Zhang went to pay the bill with the money Liu Junyue had given him and asked for a bag, he couldn’t help but ask, “Little boss, may I ask who your teacher is? Maybe I know them.”

Fatty Zhang considered himself to hold a respectable place among the chefs in Zibo City. He knew most of the top chefs in the province, yet he couldn’t figure out which master could have taught such a talented apprentice. Judging from this little boss’s face, she couldn’t even be twenty, and even if she had picked up a kitchen knife at fifteen, it had only been a few years.

He himself had been sent to a well-known restaurant as a kitchen helper at the age of nine. He started from menial tasks and chopping vegetables, trained for over a decade before he was allowed near the stove. Even during the political movements, he never left the trade and had always worked as a chef in a state-run restaurant. Over thirty years had passed since then—his years in the kitchen outnumbered Qian Jianing’s age. Yet despite that, his skills were still inferior to hers. This kid was just too gifted.

Qian Jianing smiled when she heard the question. “My master is the Complete Cookbook.”

Fatty Zhang almost choked on his own saliva. He looked at Qian Jianing with exasperation. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but at least come up with a more sincere excuse.”

Qian Jianing nodded seriously, her expression turning solemn. “I learned from an immortal in my dreams.”

Fatty Zhang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That excuse is even worse than the last one.”

Qian Jianing burst out laughing. “But I’m telling the truth—do you believe me?”

Seeing her dodge the question, Fatty Zhang assumed she had been taught by a reclusive master chef. During the political campaigns, many famous chefs were criticized for serving the bourgeoisie. His own master was one such example. Now, that old man refused all invitations and preferred a peaceful life of tea and chess.

Qian Jianing saw that the chubby uncle looked kind and smiled warmly at him. “You’re a chef too, right?”

Fatty Zhang immediately lowered his head and sniffed his sleeve. “How did you know? I don’t even smell like oil or smoke.”

Qian Jianing gave him a glance. “Your arms and hands show signs of long-term work as a chef. Also, you care a lot about the appearance and color of the food, and you savor the first bite. Regular customers focus mainly on whether it tastes good and don’t pay much attention to those things.”

Fatty Zhang felt a little embarrassed to have been seen through. “I’m the head chef at Zibo City Hotel. My surname is Zhang—just call me Fatty Zhang.”

Qian Jianing smiled. “I know that place. It’s the largest and most upscale hotel in Zibo City. I’ve never eaten there though.”

“Doesn’t matter if you have. What we make isn’t as tasty as yours.” Fatty Zhang wasn’t at all embarrassed to admit that he couldn’t measure up. “Even the presentation isn’t as nice as yours.”

That much was true. As the only disciple of the God of Cookery living among mortals, Qian Jianing felt that if she couldn’t outperform others, it would be a waste of the God of Cookery’s hands-on teaching.

Seeing that Qian Jianing didn’t seem to dislike him, Fatty Zhang cautiously asked, “When you have time, would you be willing to exchange some cooking insights with me?”

Qian Jianing had only been learning culinary skills for half a year and hadn’t really interacted with other chefs—Zhao Dazhuang from Meiwei Restaurant didn’t count. He wasn’t a real chef; his skills were mediocre and his intentions weren’t upright—just a guy who kept getting beat up. But someone like Fatty Zhang, who came with a genuine desire to learn, was welcome. Qian Jianing was very willing to discuss cooking and also wanted to learn more about the restaurant business.

After thinking through her schedule, Qian Jianing said, “I’ll be busy until the 28th of the twelfth lunar month—that’s the day I’ll close for the year.”

“Then would you be willing to come to Zibo City Hotel? Maybe you could give me some pointers, see what’s wrong with my cooking.” When it comes to professional matters, age doesn’t matter. Although Qian Jianing was young, her skills surpassed his. So without realizing it, Fatty Zhang began to speak more respectfully. He truly admired this young girl’s remarkable talent.

“No need to be so formal,” Qian Jianing said, blushing a little from the praise. “Just call me Xiaomi. I’ll call you Uncle Zhang. Let’s keep in touch.”

“Deal! Then it’s settled—Xiaomi, I’ll wait for you at Zibo City Hotel on the 28th.”
—

After a busy morning at the shop, Qian Jianing took advantage of the lull while customers were eating and didn’t skimp on treating herself. She brought out a golden, glistening roast suckling pig from another oven and began slicing and eating it with rolled flatbread.

Customers couldn’t help but gulp as they watched her eat so happily. Meat lovers stared with wide eyes—they never imagined that eating at Qian Xiaomi’s shop could leave them salivating like this.

“Boss Qian, are you selling that roast suckling pig? Can I get a plate?” one customer couldn’t resist asking.

Qian Jianing popped a piece of crispy, fragrant pig skin into her mouth. “This one’s not for sale. I made it for tasting. If you want one, you’ll need to reserve a day in advance.”

“Then I’ll reserve one for tomorrow,” someone immediately said. “I’ll leave a deposit when I pay.”

“Alright then.” Qian Jianing nodded, dipped another piece of tender, juicy meat in sauce, and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes in satisfaction.

Another round of collective gulping followed. A group of diners stared longingly at her. They couldn’t understand it—fine, her cooking was amazing, but why did she make eating look so appetizing too? Was the universe just biased toward good-looking people?

After sampling a few pieces of skin and meat, Qian Jianing sliced off more meat, sprinkled it with seasoning, and wrapped it in a flatbread. A customer who had ordered roast duck immediately grabbed some duck, wrapped it, and took a bite at the same time—both of them closed their eyes in bliss. “So good!”

Customer: “…I’m starving!”

“You guys should eat too.” Qian Jianing noticed no one was eating anymore—they were all staring at her. “Is my food not tasty?”

“It’s delicious!” one honest customer said. “We’ve just never had roast suckling pig before—it smells amazing.”

Qian Jianing took another bite, cheeks puffed out, and looked at them. “It’s not for sale even if you look at it! Hurry and eat, the dishes will lose flavor if they get cold.”

The customers finally snapped out of it and started digging into the meat dishes on the table. Though they longed for that golden, crispy roast suckling pig, the dishes they had ordered were exactly what they’d been craving—and all cooked by Qian Jianing. Every bite was heavenly. They all picked up their chopsticks and were soon immersed in the flavors, expressions of pure enjoyment on their faces.

By 2 p.m., Qian Jianing saw off the last group of customers, closed the door, took a thick wad of cash home, and locked it in a chest. When she came out to wash her hands, she was surprised to find Qian Guosheng at home.

“Dad, aren’t you working today?” Qian Jianing washed her hands, grabbed an apple, and took a bite.

Qian Guosheng looked a bit uneasy. “The factory’s not doing well. Your mom asked me to take an unpaid leave.”

“Should’ve quit a long time ago.” Qian Jianing’s thoughts matched Li Wanzhen’s exactly. “Wasting time at the factory for nothing. I don’t get why you’re so devoted—I thought you were waiting for the factory to completely collapse before coming home.”

Li Wanzhen lifted the pot lid, checked on the stewing meat inside, poked a few holes with her chopsticks, and then turned to Qian Guosheng. “See? Even Xiaomi agrees. I’ll take you with me to sell braised meat for a while. Once you get the hang of it, I’ll leave the stall to you. I’ll focus on cooking at home and learning from Xiaomi.”

Qian Jianing nodded in agreement, then teased, “Dad, won’t you be embarrassed to run a street stall when you used to be a department head?”

“Why would I be?” Qian Guosheng chuckled warmly. “Labor is honorable. There’s no hierarchy among professions—as long as you earn an honest living through your own efforts, it’s something to be proud of.”

Qian Jianing raised an eyebrow and smiled at Li Wanzhen. “You know, this kind of brainwashing-style education actually works sometimes. Saves us the trouble of trying to convince him.”

Li Wanzhen beamed. “Who needs convincing? Look at how well our life is going now. He should already know what choice to make. This time last year, your dad and I were counting pennies to get by. Come New Year, we’d stress about gifting your grandma, your other grandma, and giving out red envelopes to the kids. No matter how we flipped our wages around, it was never enough. I lost sleep over it night after night.”

Qian Jianing was overjoyed to see the changes she had brought to her family and felt that life was now full of hope. “Once my dad gets the hang of running the stall, you can start practicing cooking with me. When you’re at home, practice slicing potatoes and radishes and such. I’ll be going to college in a year and a half, and by then, I won’t be able to help out with the restaurant anymore. I’m thinking if you follow me and learn for a year or two, we’ll just take the most basic approach—how much meat, how many vegetables, what seasoning, high or low heat, practice again and again. Even if your cooking doesn’t match mine, it still needs to be tastier than your average small restaurant. But by then, the pricing can’t follow my current rates—you’ll run it like a regular small eatery. When I’m home on break, I’ll be the head chef, and we’ll keep the restaurant going.”

“As for the braised meat, we won’t stop that either.” Qian Jianing took a bite of her apple and continued, “In a couple of days when we get a break, let’s go buy a shop. When the new year begins, we’ll have Dad sell braised meat there. That’ll be a decent income too.”

“Alright!” Li Wanzhen nodded enthusiastically. “Braised meat isn’t hard to cook. Every day, once your dad gets everything ready, I’ll season the meat, and he just has to sell it.” As she spoke, Li Wanzhen gave Qian Guosheng a fierce glare. “Every day, I’ll weigh everything I give you. We’ll settle accounts in the evening. If we’re short a few cents, fine. But if there’s any overage, I’ll hold you accountable. Don’t even think about secretly slipping money to Qian Guocheng again. If I find out, I’ll send you back to the countryside. We’ll see whether your mom will take you in or your brother will support you!”

Qian Guosheng wasn’t angry at all; he agreed good-naturedly, “I won’t. Haven’t I already changed? Xiaomi’s right—can’t spoil that third brother of mine. Let him go dig coal and do hard labor. As for the old lady…” Qian Guosheng looked a little sad. “To her, only Qian Guocheng is her son. I’ll just send her twenty yuan every month and fulfill my duty.”

Li Wanzhen didn’t feel the slightest sadness over the old lady’s dislike for their family. She actually preferred it that way—saved her the trouble.

“But what about New Year’s? We used to celebrate at Big Brother’s place, but now the old lady’s living with the third brother. Where do we go for the New Year?” As the holiday approached with just ten days left, Li Wanzhen began to worry. If it were up to her, she’d rather never see the old lady or Qian Guocheng’s family again.

Qian Guosheng had already thought about this and even discussed it with Qian Guomao. “Big Brother said we can stay at his place. On New Year’s Eve, he’ll invite the old lady and Third Brother over for dinner. After dinner, they go back to their own place. On New Year’s Day, we’ll stay at Big Brother’s. If the old lady and them want to come eat, fine. If not, we won’t invite them. On the second day, we’ll go to Jianing’s grandma’s place and stay for a day, then come home that night.” After speaking, Qian Guosheng felt a bit guilty. “Look at how things have turned out—it barely feels like New Year anymore.”

Li Wanzhen immediately replied, “I think that’s great. Much quieter than previous years. Let’s just do it like this from now on—I have no objections.”
—

As the New Year drew closer by the day, business at Qian Xiaomi’s Shop grew more and more popular. Loyal customers, with more time and money at the end of the year, made extra trips. Ordinary families were willing to spend a little to try the famous little eatery that “you’ll regret not eating at,” curious to see just how good it was. Those with tighter wallets but big appetites came early in the morning—the breakfast was cheaper but still just as delicious.

Fatty Zhang said that Qian Jianing had raised the taste standards of the people in Zibo City—diners were becoming pickier by the day.

Even Zibo City’s major restaurants had taken notice of Qian Xiaomi’s Shop, not to mention all the small and mid-sized ones. Some places were self-aware and knew that whether it was flavor or price, they weren’t in the same league as Qian Xiaomi’s Shop—so they simply ignored it, since they weren’t targeting the same clientele anyway. Others, like Fatty Zhang, thought their skills were superior and felt indignant, wanting to challenge the place. But Qian Jianing specialized in dealing with that kind of discontent—those challengers would eat a meal, then go back puzzled: Why doesn’t mine taste like that? Still confused, they’d return the next day, coming more often than regular customers. Their own restaurants might as well close for a couple of days—there weren’t many customers anyway. A few, jealous that they weren’t making money, even tried to find someone to rough up Qian Jianing out of spite. But after asking around, not only did no one take the job, some even ended up mysteriously getting ambushed themselves. That quickly shut everyone up.

Since they couldn’t beat her, many restaurant owners started thinking of other ways. Anyone who had eaten at Qian Xiaomi’s Shop knew it served a health-focused set meal made with special ingredients from some “base,” and the flavor was exceptional.

They figured—if they couldn’t match the cooking, maybe they could copy the ingredients. So many of them planned to stock the same vegetables at their own places and promote their own “nutritious meal sets.” Maybe they’d make a decent profit too.

But Zibo City had six districts and counties, all full of farms and pigsties. No one had a clue where this so-called vegetable base was located.

A few of them got together to discuss the matter and decided to stake out the delivery guy at Qian Xiaomi’s Shop. They didn’t believe that, once they found him, they wouldn’t be able to get their hands on those vegetables.