The Game of Life-Chapter 711 - 710 Innovation

Chapter 711 -710 Innovation

The lobster was peeled, the skewers were pulled off the grill, bubble water, and the froth of beer took flight, chili powder and cumin mingling together.

After two beers, Mr. Sun, who was picking up the tab for all of tonight’s expenses, collapsed.

His Burberry plaid shirt clung to the cheap plastic table, the sleeves stained with the red juices of the crayfish that looked like they’d never wash out. It took just two cold beers for Sun Jikai to bid farewell to tonight’s late-night snack.

Luckily, Mr. Sun had paid the bill in advance, otherwise, the amount they consumed would have been too much for Ji Gezi and Jiang Feng to handle.

Just the kidneys alone, they ordered 40 skewers.

Unlike the last time when he started cursing his entire family as soon as he got drunk, this time Sun Jikai didn’t react at all after he collapsed, lying on the table with his eyes closed, looking as if he were asleep.

Ji Yue, munching on a big chicken heart, was unaccustomed to seeing Sun Jikai’s sudden improvement in alcohol tolerance and said, “Is he so drunk he’s passed out directly?”

Jiang Feng swallowed the lamb in his mouth, almost choking and hurriedly took a sip of Coke, “No, it was just two beers like last time, and the second one wasn’t even full.”

“Maybe he’s just too tired. He seemed down when he arrived,” Wu Minqi suggested, extending her hand towards the spicy duck heads she couldn’t reach, “Xiaxia, pass me that plate of duck heads.”

Ji Xia quickly put down her crayfish and passed the duck heads to Wu Minqi.

Ji Xue had been silent the whole time; she wasn’t familiar with Sun Jikai to begin with. She had come purely to freeload a meal, but upon seeing Sun Jikai’s state, she couldn’t help but sigh, “I think he’s rather unlucky.”

Ji Yue: ?

Ji Yue glanced at Sun Jikai’s Gucci and Burberry, then at her own Taobao explosive items, recalled the reports she had seen over the past few days, and finally, thought about who was paying for today’s meal.

“Maybe,” Ji Yue said, her expression complicated.

How could she put it, she might have finally come across a living example of someone who, other than money, had nothing.

Suddenly, everyone fell silent.

Everything cooled down, including the barbeque on the table, which grew cold. Even the steaming tin foil boxes filled with garlic clams seemed to have lost their warmth. The unique smoke and bustle of the barbecue stall became just background noise that could easily be ignored.

The atmosphere had turned eerily quiet. Wu Minqi, unsure whether to continue eating her duck head, Ji Xia quietly swallowed the meat in her mouth, daring not to make a sound, and Zhang Guanghang considered whether to eat the grilled garlic skewer in his hand or put it down.

Suddenly, Sun Jikai stirred.

He sat up abruptly, struggling to open his eyes halfway, his face screaming drunk as he mumbled something in a very weak voice.

Sun Jikai opened his mouth, “I think…”

Then he collapsed again.

Everyone: …

“It seems he’s truly passed out,” Jiang Feng remarked.

Zhang Guanghang quickly finished his grilled garlic skewer, and even being a handsome man eating garlic couldn’t hide the fact that he was handsome. After setting down the skewer and taking a sip of orange juice, having finished all his preparations, he slowly asked, “Don’t you have any other ideas about tomorrow’s taste test?”

“Huh?” Jiang Feng was puzzled by his question and replied, “Isn’t the taste test for Sun Jikai and his group tomorrow? It’s none of our business, right?”

“I’m not talking about their taste test; it’s the Summer Feast taste test,” Zhang Guanghang said.

This piqued everyone’s interest. From those present, including Ji Xia, who only occasionally made pastries and helped with odd jobs in the kitchen, everyone was a participant in the Summer Feast.

“The Summer Feast?” Ji Yue stuffed two bites of stir-fried beef and noodles into her mouth, “Isn’t the menu and date for that still undecided? Although we’ve written the invitations, the news is already out there, leaving everyone hanging. We’re just waiting for the results of your taste test to finalize the menu.”

“It’s pretty much decided, though,” Wu Minqi continued gnawing on the duck head, “Jiang Feng’s Chicken Jidou, Granduncle Weiming’s Steamed Green Eels and Hundred-Flavor Soup, Grandpa Jiang’s Texas Chicken. Now we’re just waiting for the taste test results from Master Sun and Master Qiu to finalize the menu with new dishes that have never been on the menu before. Why? Is there a problem?”

The Texas Chicken, first made by Sir and Jiang Weiming during their days at Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant, had not been thought of since they came to Beiping, as neither of them frequently cooked. It was a dish Sir had pulled out to fill in the numbers for the Summer Feast, purely because he couldn’t think of any other new dishes that showcased his skill.

The Summer Feast was meant to rub the sharpness off the top-tier restaurants and launch the first counterattack. Naturally, Taifeng Building had to send its powerful chefs. Even if they couldn’t win in a one-on-one against Chef Arno, they were determined to pummel him in a group fight.

“Don’t any of you have any ideas?” Zhang Guanghang asked.

“Ideas?” Wu Minqi and Jiang Feng echoed in unison.

“I feel like my skills…” Wu Minqi hesitated, “might not be quite there yet. Plus, all the dishes required for the Midsummer Feast are new creations, and my specialties just don’t cut it, not to mention the new ones I’ve learned.”

Jiang Feng, on the other hand, had caught on to what Zhang Guanghang was implying, “Old Zhang, do you have some ideas of your own?”

Zhang Guanghang nodded, “After eating that roast whole chicken at the top-floor restaurant last time, I’ve been mulling over some ideas. I’ve made some progress recently, so I want to try them out during tomorrow’s tasting session to see if they might make it onto the Midsummer Feast menu.”

The moment Zhang Guanghang’s words landed, everyone was taken aback.

Translated, his statement meant, “I’ve recently created an amazingly delicious dish that I’m very confident about. I plan to make it for you all tomorrow to see if it can make it onto the Midsummer Feast menu.”

Creating one’s own dish is probably every chef’s ultimate dream.

Not to mention creating one, even improving a classic dish to the praise of the vast majority is something to boast about for a lifetime.

Not every dish born from free creativity can be called an original creation. Dishes like banana stir-fried with tomatoes, blueberries stewed with pears, or tomatoes stir-fried with dragon fruit are just dark cuisine. For a chef of Zhang Guanghang’s caliber, telling others that he’s recently come up with a new dish and is inviting everyone to taste it means he has great confidence in his own creation.

Culinary development has come a long way, especially now, with abundant information exchange and prompt logistics. Ingredients that once couldn’t appear on the same plate due to regional divides can now meet with just a phone call. Nearly all conceivable cooking methods have already been discovered, and the predecessors have explored every worthwhile path, leaving the successors with the daunting task of forging entirely new ones.

This is also why Sun Guanyun is recognized as a master of Cantonese cuisine even if his skills aren’t top-notch—he’s either exceptional in his craft or has innovated beyond his predecessors.

“Have you named your dish?” Wu Minqi asked.

“Fruit-Scented Chicken,” replied Zhang Guanghang, “The name isn’t very appealing. I’ll need your help to think of a better one after making it tomorrow.”

Wu Minqi nodded, deep in thought.

Zhang Guanghang’s comment had shifted the focus of their conversation to the next day’s tasting session. They ate, drank, and chatted until past midnight, not dispersing until they had finished the barbecue on the table and Ji Xia had burped a carbon dioxide belch full of cumin flavor after finishing the last gulp of cola.

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“Old Zhang, you go back first. Sun Jikai lives just above me, so I’ll carry him home,” Jiang Feng had intended to help carry Sun Jikai upstairs, but upon his words, Zhang Guanghang nodded and drove home.

The late-night meal had just two bottles of beer— one for Ji Yue and one for Sun Jikai. Zhang Guanghang, having driven, couldn’t drink, and Ji Yue, who could hold her liquor, was unaffected by one bottle, even helping Jiang Feng get Sun Jikai into the elevator.

Sun Jikai lived on the 16th floor.

With Ji Yue’s help, they got into the elevator, but Jiang Feng was on his own when dragging Sun Jikai out. Sun Jikai was sound asleep and very heavy; he had been staying at home every day, ordering spicy hot pot delivery and putting on a few pounds. People couldn’t be handled as easily as a package, and Jiang Feng inadvertently kicked Sun Jikai while dragging him out of the elevator, waking him up.

But waking up was of little help to the drunken man.

“Sun Jikai, Sun Jikai,” Jiang Feng patted Sun Jikai, “Are you awake? If you are, go take a shower by yourself. I’m leaving.”

Sun Jikai lay on the sofa, his eyes indistinguishable between open and closed, tears leaking from the corners, his mouth opening and closing as he silently muttered.

Jiang Feng understood two of the words by reading his lips, very easy to comprehend words.

Grandpa.

Jiang Feng exhaled deeply.

For some reason, he thought the current Sun Jikai resembled the young Sir he had seen in his memories, both having left their hometown with the same conviction. The only difference was that Sun Jikai had a much better start than Sir had back in the day.

He remembered Sun Jikai’s once classic, slightly cheesy saying.

Thirty years in Hedong, thirty years in Hexi, never underestimate a young man’s poverty.

He just hoped that years later, Sun Jikai could say that phrase again, but with a new tone.

Jiang Feng left the keys on the console and departed.

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