The Game of Life-Chapter 861 - 860 What Really Matters

Chapter 861: Chapter 860: What Really Matters

Chapter 861 -860: What Really Matters

“Absolutely not, this simply won’t do. There’s no reason for it—skills are passed down within the family, how can they be carelessly exchanged? I don’t need yours, and you should stop looking for me.”

The mist hadn’t cleared yet when Jiang heard a string of words filled with rejection.

“Master Peng, Master Peng…”

The fog dispersed.

Jiang saw a slightly younger Jiang Chengde being pushed out by a middle-aged man who looked somewhat familiar, yet was overall a stranger he was certain he had not seen before.

Jiang stood at the entrance of Yonghe House, he and the unfamiliar middle-aged man inside, with Chengde having just been pushed out the door.

Jiang tentatively took a couple of steps outside, only to find that he indeed couldn’t leave—the problem with the house’s sentient memory was the limited range of movement.

“Master Peng, please reconsider,” Chengde pleaded with a very humble posture, clearly asking for a favor.

The person addressed as Master Peng, who seemed to be Grandfather Peng Changping, firmly waved his hand, his face saying it was impossible: “No way, there’s nothing to consider.”

“Jiang, I do admire you, and everything can be discussed except for this matter. Not only is it non-negotiable with me, but I’m telling you, you won’t find a single person in the whole of Beiping City who would agree to your idea, it’s a pipe dream, don’t even think about it!”

Very decisive.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

With a “bang,” Master Peng closed Yonghe House’s door, shutting Chengde outside, and without looking back, he headed toward the kitchen.

“Dad, are we not opening for business today? Mr. Lu agreed to closing the place?” the younger version of Master Peng whom Jiang had previously seen in the kitchen asked timidly as he poked his head out, speaking softly.

Old Master Peng: …

“You go open the door.” Old Master Peng said grumpily as he patted his pants and went into the kitchen.

Master Peng could only silently walk to the door and reopen it.

Chengde was still standing outside, and when their eyes met, the atmosphere was indescribably awkward.

“Master Jiang, my dad won’t agree, you should go back first. Taifeng Building is still open for business as usual today, right?” Master Peng tried to persuade him kindly.

Jiang Chengde seemed somewhat dejected after being turned away, and this was the first time Jiang had seen his usually calm, serious, and even somewhat stoic great-grandfather display such an expression.

“Young Master Peng, do you think my idea is wrong?” Chengde’s voice was not only filled with disappointment but also a hint of confusion.

“I’m not one to say,” Master Peng forced a smile, “I actually heard what you said to my dad, and it really is like chasing a fantasy—there’s never been such a precedent.”

“But I think it might be a good method,” Master Peng chuckled, “It’s just impossible for our family. Given how similar our situations are, with skills passed down within the family, how could we possibly teach outsiders, especially since you’re not becoming my dad’s student? Plus, I think your cooking is already quite good. Practicing your own is enough; there’s no need to learn other dishes.”

“What are you dawdling out there for, kid? How long can it take to open a door? Get in here and help me; do you want to work me to death?” Old Master Peng’s bellowing came from the kitchen behind.

“I can’t talk anymore; my dad is rushing me. Really, if you really want to do this, you might try at another house, but my dad definitely won’t agree, so don’t come back.” Having said that, Master Peng hurried back into the kitchen, leaving Jiang Chengde standing at the entrance of Yonghe House.

Chengde stood at the door for a moment, then left.

A mist descended.

Jiang: ???

Is Yonghe House getting forgetful with age, not even keeping memories complete anymore? What’s the meaning of this?

If this were compared to a TV series, Jiang felt he had just seen the opening credits when it suddenly ended.

Then Jiang realized something was amiss.

He was still in the fog.

Usually, the fog during the memory sequence was unstable, lasting a few seconds at the least or a couple of minutes at most. The fog upon exiting a memory was typically very brief, at most seven or eight seconds.

“He said that even after spending more than a minute in the fog, there was no sign of it dissipating; instead, it was getting thicker.”

“Could it be that this isn’t forgetfulness but dementia, or perhaps that fire from back then did some damage to Yonghe House’s brain, causing the memory to become confused.”

Jiang Feng usually stood still in the room, but the fog this time was too bizarre, even more so than Sun Maochai’s memory, and Jiang Feng started to walk around.

Then he heard a voice and followed its direction, the voice becoming clearer and clearer, it was Jiang Chengde’s voice.

“Master Peng, I might have been too rash yesterday, after going back I thought it over carefully, and I think we can…”

The voice vanished as if it had suddenly run ahead; Jiang Feng hastened his pace, chasing after the disappearing voice.

“Master Peng, if you’re not at ease, we could start with communication, I, yesterday again…”

And running again.

“Master Peng, I have a new idea here, take a look…”

Continue.

“Master Peng, why don’t you consider…”

Don’t stop.

“Master Peng…”

“…”

Jiang Feng felt exhausted, he began to gasp for air, to sweat, to feel the strain, this was his first time feeling something so real in a memory. Although he couldn’t see anything through the fog, Jiang Feng felt his running was like continuously pushing open door after door, behind each, Jiang Chengde’s persuasion to Master Peng, day after day, each run signifying the passing of time.

Unable to gauge direction, seeing nothing ahead, not even sure of how far he had run, he could only run forward based on feeling, setting aside all judgment, purely led by feeling, pursuing those fragmented, never-complete phrases.

Finally, Jiang Feng felt he could barely run any longer.

The phrases he could hear became shorter and shorter, starting with complete sentences then moving to half-sentences, quarter-sentences, a few words, until at last only a few trembling, disconnected sounds remained.

Jiang Feng stopped and took deep breaths.

He was too tired, had never been this tired before, he felt like he was about to collapse.

“Master Jiang, what is it that you really want?” It was Peng Changping’s father’s voice, ahead of him; Jiang Feng staggered forward a few steps, his legs trembling with fatigue.

But he kept moving forward, as if chasing after something.

He didn’t even know why he kept going.

He knew that Jiang Chengde’s repeated calling of ‘Master Peng’ was to pursue what lay in his heart, for the sake of exchange, of learning, of seeking enlightenment.

But what about him?

He was merely a spectator, a spectator who couldn’t even see, only listen, and couldn’t fully grasp what he heard, shrouded in fog, why was he running?

Jiang Feng felt he must be running for some reason, for some inexplicable things unrelated to all of this.

“You said this isn’t about learning or consulting, but about exchange. You said you wouldn’t sell any learned dishes at the Taifeng Building, you’re even willing to trade Jiang’s Sea Cucumber Soup, but if learning isn’t to be used, then why learn?”

Jiang Feng still moved forward.

“I don’t know either.” It was Jiang Chengde’s voice.

“But I know I must learn because only by learning can I understand what it is I truly want.”

Jiang Feng left the memory.