The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 114

That small plate of dried beef was something he had taken the initiative to bring over.

The cup of tea Jiang Tingzhou had poured for him was also special. Take a bite of the beef jerky, then sip the tea—the fragrance of the meat would become even stronger.

Liu Ping ate slowly, as if he were savoring every note of the flavor. He asked Jiang Tingzhou, “How did you make this?”

It didn’t seem like something he’d just learned on a whim. The spice blend felt deeply rooted in local tradition—with subtle improvements.

“When I was a chef, I traveled around and learned some unique local recipes,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Every region has its own distinctive flavors, don’t you think?”

Liu Ping nodded. “They do.” He continued eating the jerky, his expression shifting subtly. 

Zeng Rong, however, couldn’t figure out what was going through his mind.

Personally, he didn’t think the jerky was all that special. Jiang Tingzhou had made better dishes before. The tea looked ordinary—definitely not expensive. If it were a hometown flavor, that could stir emotions—but that didn’t make sense either. Liu Ping was a true Dongjiang native, and yak jerky wasn’t something from his hometown.

In recent years, countless people have tried to win Liu Ping over with gourmet food. He’d eaten delicacies from all over—famous restaurants, lavish banquets. It was hard to impress him.

But Jiang Tingzhou had clearly touched something special.

Liu Ping’s life story wasn’t a secret. He grew up in poverty and worked from a young age. By chance, he served several years in the military and was once stationed on the grasslands.

Naturally, while stationed there, he ate local food. And yak jerky was one of the most iconic specialties.

That region wasn’t nearly as prosperous as Dongjiang, and his post was especially remote. Liu Ping rarely spoke of those years. It had been a tough time in his life, with few happy memories—at least, none he’d admit to.

But Jiang Tingzhou had heard that when Liu Ping eventually retired from the military, he chose to return to that very region to live.

Perhaps it was the endless grasslands, washing over the soul like wind. Those years of hardship had tempered him; his once restless temperament had grown steady. The retirement stipend became his first start-up fund. Even now, Liu Ping still carried himself like a soldier.

That experience—though hidden—was clearly important to him.

As a chef, Jiang Tingzhou’s strength was in understanding what people really wanted to eat.

And this time, he’d succeeded again.

The most authentic way to eat air-dried beef jerky in that region was to not season it at all. But plain jerky was bland. Many locals preferred something with bold flavors—especially during intense physical training. Heavily seasoned dried meat restored energy quickly and tasted richer. It was a rare comfort in those hard days.

Jiang Tingzhou also noticed during the finals that Liu Ping didn’t favor overly bland dishes. So he’d deliberately leaned into a flavorful preparation.

Liu Ping was still chewing the jerky when Yu Li arrived.

He held his phone tightly, looking a bit nervous. “Mr. Jiang, can I ask you something?” he said. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure.” Jiang Tingzhou handed him a piece of jerky. “What is it? Go ahead.”

“It’s like this—someone just called me,” Yu Li explained. “They said they want to buy the spice blend I use for stewing lamb. They want to mass-produce it and offered a really high price—seven figures.”

Jiang Tingzhou asked, “Do you want to sell it?”

“Well, the price is tempting. If I sold it, I could go home and open my own shop. My mom wouldn’t have to work so hard anymore,” Yu Li said. “But… I’m afraid I might get cheated.”

Jiang Tingzhou thought for a moment. “Seven figures is reasonable. Believe in yourself—your recipe is worth that much. But don’t agree right away. Think it over. This is business. If the negotiations go well, you might even get more. Your concern is valid though—you must be careful.”

If the recipe were leaked during negotiations, everything could change.

Jiang Tingzhou had seen chefs suffer this way before—tricked by cleverly worded contracts. Recipes have no clear legal standard. Flavor is subjective. If the company accused Yu Li of breaching the agreement or failing to meet expectations, they might demand their money back.

Details matter. Without proper protection, anyone could be cheated.

“This kind of thing is hard to explain all at once,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “I’ll find a good lawyer for you. Let a professional read over everything. Don’t sign anything in a hurry. Take your time.”

A good chef isn’t always a good businessman. Yu Li had come so far—Jiang Tingzhou didn’t want him to suffer a setback now.

Yu Li nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He chewed on the jerky thoughtfully. “Mr. Jiang, how do you make this beef jerky? The more I chew, the better it tastes.”

“It’s simple,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Just be careful when selecting the meat. I’ll write up a list for you later.”

“Really?” Yu Li’s eyes widened. “I was just asking casually, and you’re really giving it to me?”

Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “This isn’t some secret. I even planned to share it online. If you like it, that’s enough.”

While they were chatting, some audience members wandered over, drawn by the food. They asked if they could try some.

“Of course,” Jiang Tingzhou said. He had prepared plenty and handed it out freely. “Happy New Year’s Eve, thanks for coming to watch the show.”

“Thank you for the food!” someone replied. “This is the happiest New Year’s Eve I’ve had in years.”

Yu Li overheard and felt the same.

He’d left his hometown years ago, trying to make a living. Life outside had been more complicated than he expected—tiring, often thankless. He had once felt like he hadn’t achieved anything.

But today, all the hardships had been worth it.

Finishing the last bite of jerky, Yu Li turned to Jiang Tingzhou. “Boss Jiang, how much can you give?”

Jiang Tingzhou was caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I heard from that company—they can make pre-packaged spice mixes for mass sale. Grind some ingredients into powder, keep others secret, and no one would know the exact ratio. If this works, it could become a well-known seasoning,” Yu Li said. “Honestly, if things go as they say, it’s not a bad deal.”

His mother’s recipe could reach more people. He could earn money and finally open a shop back home—a win-win.

More than one company had reached out, each with more extravagant offers than the last. He had choices now.

Jiang Tingzhou was surprised. “Yu Li, your business prospects are great, and I don’t want to stand in your way. The sugar factory I work with is good at snacks but has no experience in spices. I’m afraid your recipe might be ruined.”

If they had the right capabilities, Jiang Tingzhou would’ve helped without hesitation. But snack production and seasoning production were completely different. The sugar factory had no production line, no technical expertise in that area. It wouldn’t be right to force it just for profit.

Yu Li said, “But I saw the sponsor of the competition—Haoshi. They should be capable, right?”

Haoshi specialized in instant foods, including seasoning packets. They were well-known. Yu Li had noticed their products at the event.

“They can definitely do it,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “You can work directly with Haoshi. I’m sure if President Du hears about this, she won’t turn it down. They’ll give you a fair price—probably better than the rest. But you can contact them yourself. No need to go through me.”

Yu Li smiled. “But I trust you, President Jiang. I know you wouldn’t cheat me.”

Jiang Tingzhou: “…”

The words stirred something inside him—like a warm ripple across still water.

“I’ll speak to Haoshi for you,” he said. “It’s not just about money. If things go well, they could even put your logo on the packaging. When you talk to President Du, you’ll see—Haoshi is a good company. You can trust them.”

Yu Li nodded. “I’ll get in touch later.” Then he grabbed his trophy and happily posed for photos with the crowd.

Liu Ping had been watching quietly all along. He finished the last piece of jerky, looked at the empty plate, then at Jiang Tingzhou—and smiled.

This smile was genuine, reaching deep into his eyes. It was the first time all day he had shown such open satisfaction.

“Your food is better than I expected,” Liu Ping said. “This jerky isn’t exactly like the kind I used to eat—yours is better. I’m very satisfied today.”

What satisfied him wasn’t just the competition.

The beef jerky from his youth no longer existed. But this version retained that special, elusive flavor—while making it even better.

Liu Ping was usually calm and unreadable. Even Zeng Rong, who’d worked with him for years, couldn’t tell what he was thinking—especially after the Zhang Xiaocong incident. They feared he’d be offended.

But in truth, when Liu Ping heard Zhang’s over-the-top boasting, one thought struck him:

“He reminds me of someone.”—Of his younger self.

The bravado, the boldness—it wasn’t rare. But Jiang Tingzhou was the opposite: soft on the outside, tough on the inside.

Seeing him today brought back so many memories.

“I still remember,” Liu Ping said, “the first business I started after leaving the army was delivering water. I wasn’t very good at it. Bigger clients had better options. But they chose me—because they trusted me.”

That trust came from being a veteran.

Trust is rare. It must be earned and protected. 

Liu Ping worked tirelessly and proved himself. That trust became the foundation of Xiushui Group.

Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t a veteran. He’d only worked with these contestants for a month. But they trusted him. So did Zeng Rong. So did companies like Haoshi and Bingcheng Chao—not easy people to win over.

That trust didn’t come from nowhere.

Jiang Tingzhou had earned it himself.