The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 112

The competition had been a great success, and the final result matched what Jiang Tingzhou had predicted. 

Clearly in good spirits, Jiang Tingzhou now stood behind a table carving a freshly roasted suckling pig, smiling as he asked, “By the way, are the contestants here yet?”

“They should be on their way,” Lu Baiyu replied, then added, “Tingzhou, Master Chef Wang and the others are browsing the stalls out front. They’ll be here soon. Also… Liu Ping—”

Liu Ping was probably the only variable in this entire event.

Lu Baiyu had also noticed that Liu Ping seemed less enthusiastic than usual. While he may have acknowledged the flavor of the winning mutton stew, there was something about it—or perhaps about the competition overall—that clearly left him unsatisfied. But exactly what he was dissatisfied with remained unclear.

Jiang Tingzhou, however, showed no change in expression.

“I know,” he said calmly. “People like him always think differently from the rest.”

Next to him on the table, a phone screen lit up. A message from Zeng Rong popped up: Liu Ping is on his way.

But on this celebratory night, Liu Ping wasn’t the main focus. The most important thing right now was—eating.

Before Liu Ping arrived, the contestants had already rushed over. 

Tao Jintian, who led the group, clutched his silver trophy and ran while shouting: “Boss Jiang, it’s over! You’ll never guess who won! What did you cook? It smells amazing!”

“I already know who won,” Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “And as for the food—don’t worry. There’s plenty for everyone.”

As he spoke, the suckling pig, freshly roasted, was already being carved and plated. The timing was perfect; the meat was hot, fragrant, and ready to eat.

Roast Suckling Pig was especially fitting for this time of year. When roasted properly, even the bones would be delightfully crispy.

The skin was a glossy, golden red—perfectly crisp and glistening like glass. That’s why this method of roasting was often called Glass-Crisp Roast Suckling Pig.

The meat carved from the pig came in three layers: the top was the skin; beneath that, a perfectly thin layer of fat that gave a rich and luscious taste; and at the bottom, the savory lean meat.

Some preferred to eat it plain—the pork was already flavorful enough on its own. Others dipped it in salt, pepper, or chili powder. 

Jiang Tingzhou also prepared a special tangy-spicy dipping sauce. Cai Yuan, on the other hand, used a Western-style approach—adding a layer of caviar on top, turning it into a mille-feuille of sorts, enhancing the complexity of flavors.

As for Jiang Tingzhou himself—he liked dipping it in sugar. That sweet-salty balance was exactly to his taste.

After carving, he picked up a piece, tasted it, and nodded in approval. “Not bad. Roasted just right.”

The contestants fell silent after taking their first bite.

Roast suckling pig, when done poorly, could be greasy and overwhelming. But this—this was perfect. The texture, the balance of fat and lean, the evenness of the slices—it was all textbook.

Everyone looked at Jiang Tingzhou with new eyes.

No wonder Ye Shunxin once said that if Jiang Tingzhou had entered the competition himself, no one would’ve been able to predict the final outcome.

And the pig was just the beginning.

Jiang Tingzhou had prepared a full New Year’s Eve family banquet. Even with this many guests, there would be more than enough food.

He brought out signature dishes like: Stuffed Rivers and Mountains, hat Tao Jintian and Ye Shunxin had requested, as well as Jade Fortune Pouches—cabbage leaves filled with diced shiitake mushrooms, water bamboo shoots, and other stir-fried vegetables. Light and refreshing, the pouch-like form symbolized fortune while highlighting the vegetables’ freshness and juiciness.

He also remade dishes the contestants were already familiar with:

A new version of Master Qiu’s Jade Hairpin Shrimp Balls—now served in a golden soup with a tangy aroma that balanced the fried shrimp’s richness. Jiang Tingzhou had picked it up recently and already refined it.

Chef Qiu himself hadn’t expected him to learn so quickly.

And Jiang Tingzhou hadn’t just copied the recipe—he had improved it. His version was Golden Broth Jade Hairpin Shrimp Balls, served with a tangy sauce that kept the fried shrimp balls from being greasy.

The rice cakes he made today were also delicious—Boletus-Braised Rice Cakes. Soft and chewy, infused with the aroma of porcini mushrooms, it had a flavor distinct from the Yellow Croaker and Rice Cake Stew from the competition.

The soups were just as impressive.

Besides the reliable home-style Old Hen Soup, there was a particularly special one he had learned from a contestant—Crispy Rice with Bean Soup. A rich shrimp-bean broth was poured over crispy roasted rice, creating a chewy, layered soup with both the fragrance of rice  soaked in the umami-rich soup.

As one dish after another was served, Master Chef Wang finally arrived with the other judges. He was noticeably more cheerful than he had been during the broadcast, carrying half a skewer of candied hawthorn and a glass of juice.

He walked straight to Jiang Tingzhou’s table, picked up a piece of roast pork, took a bite, and nodded with satisfaction. “Not bad. You’ve improved—tastes better than before. Hey, are you stewing something else? Let me try it.”

He didn’t bother with pleasantries—apprentices didn’t require them. His sense of smell was as sharp as ever, picking up hints of flavor from across the bustling market.

Jiang Tingzhou lifted the lid off a nearby clay jar.

Inside was— Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

The aroma instantly thickened in the air.

This classic dish wasn’t just about piling in expensive ingredients—it required true technique to balance the flavors in the broth. Abalone, scallops, pig tendons, sea cucumbers, fish maw—all had to be cooked just right. The golden broth shimmered under the light. One taste, and you knew why it was called “The King of Chinese Cuisine.”

Jiang Tingzhou ladled out a bowl for Master Chef Wang, but reminded him: “Don’t eat too much. High cholesterol, high blood pressure—your wife won’t let you hear the end of it.”

“I know, I know,” Master Chef Wang waved him off, already sipping the broth with joy.

This was the same dish that had won Jiang Tingzhou a championship in a previous life.

Back then, the final round of the chef competition had emphasized luxury dishes. Rather than play it safe, he had prepared Buddha Jumps Over the Wall—and won.

He wasn’t a contestant anymore. But he still made the dish again tonight—for everyone here.

He continued serving bowls. Midway through, he handed one to Liu Ping, who had just arrived.

Liu Ping accepted the bowl, quietly scooped a spoonful, tasted it, and then said nothing.

He simply sat down and ate in silence.

Meanwhile, the contestants had gathered around Jiang Tingzhou. Eating, chatting, and laughing—it felt like a true family reunion.

“Boss Jiang, your dishes are amazing,” said Master Qiu, full of emotion. “This competition was worth it. It’s true—there’s always someone better out there.”

He no longer cared about medals. What moved him was the realization that there was so much delicious food in the world, far more than one lifetime could ever allow.

“Exactly,” Ye Shunxin added, “Winning isn’t everything. What matters is that I’ve grown.”

She had earned a silver medal, but her confidence now was stronger than ever.

Cai Yuan, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke up: “Boss Jiang, I owe you an apology. I misjudged you before. I thought you were like the other big-name chefs I’ve met—disconnected, profit-driven.”

In the past, the chef competition had been simpler, with no need for politics or manipulation.

But this time—it was different.

As a Western-style chef, she had been the first to notice something off about Zhan Rui. She had encountered many people with powerful backgrounds before, and usually, they faced no obstacles in competitions like this. By all accounts, his presence should have been perfectly normal. But unexpectedly, she soon heard news of his disgraceful withdrawal.

Anyone with eyes could see that the program had decisively expelled him.

If Zhan Rui’s departure could be explained as failed negotiations, then Tao Jintian losing to Yu Li by just a single point made the truth clear.

Yu Li never intended to work with Jiang Tingzhou—or with anyone. He had already said he planned to return home after the finals, open a small restaurant, and live a quiet life. He wasn’t interested in making big money.

Even winning the championship hadn’t changed his mind.

And the final deciding vote? It came from Master Chef Wang, a known friend of Jiang Tingzhou. If his score had shifted by even a little, the outcome would’ve changed. Yet he chose to award Yu Li—not Tao Jintian, who was actively seeking cooperation with Jiang Tingzhou.

It was enough to show that everything had been handled fairly.

“No need to apologize,” Jiang Tingzhou replied calmly. “I was just doing what I should. This is how a competition ought to be.”

Cai Yuan and the others didn’t know the full story behind Zhan Rui—that Xiushui Group had been involved. But Jiang Tingzhou did. Even with Liu Ping sitting within earshot, he didn’t hide it.

As the main dishes came to an end, Jiang Tingzhou brought out small snacks: steamed pork ribs with taro, his recent favorite, Sweet baked egg custard, soft and fragrant. And finally, the simplest: scallion tofu

Simple, clean, and honest—yet even that tofu had a flavor so rich and distinct, it rivaled the complexity of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

Master Qiu, munching on baked custard, couldn’t help but smile. He had a sweet tooth, and clearly admired Jiang Tingzhou’s craftsmanship.

Then he put down his bowl and made a decision: “Mr. Jiang, Tao Jintian once talked to me about collaborating. I’ve been considering it, but to be honest—I’m getting old. Just finishing this competition was enough for me. I won’t have the energy in a few years.”

He was a businessman, after all. His Qibao Restaurant was well-known and popular with locals and tourists alike. But he was ready to step back.

“However,” he added with a smile, “I’ve got some excellent apprentices. I want to send them out for experience over the next two years. Maybe we can open a Qibao branch in Yongqing. Mr. Jiang, do you have space?”

Jiang Tingzhou was caught off guard.

“Qibao’s opening a branch?” he repeated. Then immediately nodded. “Of course. You’re more than welcome.”