The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 117

Even now, Jiang Tingzhou still finds that incident utterly ridiculous—but it really happened.

“I was talking business!”

He was clearly angry as he said this. “Young Master Lu, you know very well how difficult it was for me to set up that meeting. It was important for my work. You intervened just because I resisted—what, you wanted to use that situation to suppress me?”

“It wasn’t like that, Tingzhou.” Lu Baiyu still wanted to explain. “My approach was wrong, I admit it. I’m sorry. But my original intention wasn’t what you think. I just didn’t want you getting involved with those people. They’re… not good people.”

That night’s banquet hadn’t been a pleasant one.

The business world was complex. Someone had opened the conversation with subtle probing. Jiang Tingzhou had been present then, and as the saying goes, a powerful outsider can’t overpower local forces. Not everyone there respected him—many were even plotting to bring him down.

One of them, in particular, had harbored ill intentions toward Jiang Tingzhou for a long time—that same man whose arm was later dislocated by bodyguards.

By then it was already very late. According to the original schedule, the banquet should have ended, but people kept stalling. Jiang Tingzhou’s alcohol tolerance was average at best, and he had already been forced to drink several glasses.

Under normal circumstances, Lu Baiyu would’ve never allowed this. He always maintained tight control over everything. That night, though, he insisted on taking Jiang Tingzhou away—desperate to prevent anything unexpected from happening.

“So you’ll resort to anything?” Jiang Tingzhou said coldly. “Young Master Lu, I’m not a child anymore. Do you think I’ll only ever run into good people? Don’t you think I know they harbor ulterior motives? If I can’t even handle people like that, how could I possibly manage bigger business deals? And even if there really were traps in that banquet, why couldn’t you have discussed it with me in advance?” He paused before continuing. “And even if there was a trap—why couldn’t you talk to me about it beforehand?”

Jiang Tingzhou quickly calmed down, tilted his head, and looked away. “No matter what your intentions were, acting this way means you completely disregarded how I felt.”

Back then, they were still in a relationship. Maybe Lu Baiyu had truly been worried—but instead of explaining, he just acted on his own judgment.

Lu Baiyu had judged the partner Jiang was negotiating with to be untrustworthy. So when he ordered Jiang to be taken away, he was already prepared to sever ties with that person. He figured he could replace them, avoid conflict, and keep the project running smoothly.

But now, it was too late to clarify things.

“I’ll assume your intentions were good,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “But back then, you couldn’t even be bothered to explain it to me properly?”

Lu Baiyu had no defense.

He had said nothing back then. And even if he wanted to explain later, by that point, the two of them were no longer in a state where calm conversation was possible.

Jiang Tingzhou had already endured too much—his space and privacy had been repeatedly violated. Being forcibly taken from the banquet had infuriated him. Even then, he tried to hold back, tried to control himself, and didn’t immediately say he wanted to break up.

After all, they’d been together for years. He chose to give it one last chance.

He still remembers what he said at that time.

“Since Young Master Lu’s memory has recovered this much, you should also remember. In my previous life, when I felt things weren’t right, I told you maybe we should separate for a while, calm down, so we wouldn’t end up arguing every time we met. And what did you do?”

Lu Baiyu had flat-out refused.

Instead of taking a step back, he’d only grown more controlling—irrational and unwilling to talk.

They had been in different locations then. Jiang Tingzhou had brought it up on the phone, his tone quite gentle. He’d broached the idea softly.

Lu Baiyu hadn’t seemed angry on the call. His voice was calm. He didn’t agree, but he didn’t refuse either. So Jiang Tingzhou assumed he had agreed.

But the next morning, someone who had been thousands of kilometers away showed up in front of Jiang Tingzhou—with cold eyes and an entourage.

No matter what Jiang had planned that day, he was forcibly taken back to Brilliant Star by Lu Baiyu and locked inside. No one was allowed in or out for a long time.

“There’s nothing to think about,” Lu Baiyu had said. “You want to break up? Absolutely not. Not unless I die.”

By then, Jiang Tingzhou had endured this kind of behavior many times already, and that time, his bottom line was completely crossed—he could not accept it anymore. 

When Lu Baiyu refused to let him out, In his rage, Jiang Tingzhou smashed many of the carefully chosen decorations in the house.

That’s when he truly made up his mind: they were not compatible. They had to break up.

And yet, after realizing he couldn’t change Jiang Tingzhou’s mind, Lu Baiyu even considered taking him abroad to get married—as if settling formalities would make Jiang stay.

Unfortunately, that only made things worse.

By now, it was clear: their breakup, the arguments, all of it had been inevitable. If they kept trying to fix things with force, whatever affection was left would only be drained further.

Later on, Lu Baiyu realized the damage he’d done. He wanted to make up for it. But his way of “compensating” Jiang Tingzhou was by offering greater material benefits—as if that would make things right.

Lu Group had access to many lucrative projects, several of which dwarfed the scale of Jiang Tingzhou’s business. It was as if Lu Baiyu thought that as long as he gave enough, everything would be forgiven.

Jiang Tingzhou took a deep breath as he said, “Young Master Lu, if you’re wondering why I didn’t turn to you during the Zhang Xiaocong situation, let me ask you—what’s the difference between what you did and what he did? You always impose your will. You never listen. How can I trust you?”

When Zhang Xiaocong tried to manipulate him, Jiang Tingzhou reacted immediately—without compromise. He would never tolerate being controlled.

Having been burned once, how could he let it happen again?

Looking at Lu Baiyu now, Jiang could tell that the man had finally pieced together fragments of those past events—things he had forgotten before.

In hindsight, none of this had happened overnight. The cracks had been forming for a long time. What happened was simply the result of that slow erosion.

After finishing, Jiang Tingzhou made to stand up and leave, but Lu Baiyu wouldn’t let him.

Jiang frowned. “What now, Young Master Lu?”

Even with socks on, his feet and calves were cold. But Lu Baiyu pulled him close, held his legs in his arms to warm them, and said softly, “Tingzhou… don’t go. I still have something to say.”

Jiang Tingzhou waited for him to speak.

But he had already heard countless explanations from Lu Baiyu.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did,” Lu Baiyu said. “I’m sorry. I felt you slipping further and further away from me… and I was really scared.”

He had never admitted fear before.

But that relationship had been dying for a long time. When Jiang Tingzhou began focusing on his own business, he started seeing it clearly. Lu Baiyu simply couldn’t accept it.

But life moves on. Nothing can stop it.

Once the capable Mr. Lu—now, completely helpless.

“I know now,” he continued, “that the people around you were never the issue. No matter how they behaved, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The issue was always me. I kept ignoring your feelings. Back then, it was you who didn’t want to come back,” 

All that suspicion, all the talk of others trying to steal Jiang Tingzhou—those were just superficial reasons.

The deeper truth was: once Jiang Tingzhou stepped out on his own, he felt a sense of relief.

He experienced freedom for the first time. And in that freedom, he found clarity. He began to rediscover himself.

His instincts had pushed him away from Lu Baiyu, and building his own business gave him both the excuse and the path to escape.

Jiang Tingzhou was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes.”

He couldn’t deny it.

Lu Baiyu then asked, “Even now… when you have time off, you’d rather stay here and work than go home. You especially don’t want to see me—right?”

Jiang Tingzhou was quiet for longer this time.

He lowered his head, avoiding eye contact, and finally said, “…Yes.”

After walking away, Jiang Tingzhou had realized more deeply: the Lu family home had never been his home.

Hearing that, even after two lifetimes, Lu Baiyu felt as though a sharp arrow had pierced his chest.

His breath tightened. It took a long while to calm down.

“I was wrong, Tingzhou. Completely wrong. It was my behavior that caused all of this. I just… kept making mistake after mistake.”

Even as Jiang Tingzhou had begun pulling away, Lu Baiyu still hadn’t understood the core issue. Even when he realized he’d made mistakes, he still excused himself by saying, “It’s because I loved you.”

Because he couldn’t bear to lose his lover, he had crossed countless lines—and only truly realized the cost once he had already lost him.

“It wasn’t love,” Lu Baiyu said. “I shouldn’t have used that as an excuse. My intentions, my methods… all of it was wrong. I’m sorry, Tingzhou. I was selfish.”

At last, he had realized: You can’t excuse everything in the name of love.

Lu Baiyu had always approached things from his own perspective. Even if it was cloaked in “love,” he had never truly considered Jiang Tingzhou’s point of view.

That wasn’t love—it was selfishness.

It was the first time Jiang Tingzhou had heard him admit that.

The room fell silent, save for the sound of mountain winds outside.

Eventually, Lu Baiyu broke the silence.

“Tingzhou, if I’d communicated with you properly back then… if I had changed, truly supported your choices, just like I do now—do you think… things might have ended differently?”

It was something he had asked himself many times.

If only he had changed earlier. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn, would he still have had a chance?

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t answer at once. He leaned back on the sofa. He had never entertained this kind of hypothetical. 

In the past, he would’ve simply answered no.

But now… he actually gave it some thought.

Then he replied, slowly: “It doesn’t matter. There’s no ‘ifs’ between us. Baiyu, you know very well—You didn’t do any of that back then.”

“…Yeah.” Lu Baiyu gave a bitter smile. “It’s a pity I did nothing back then.”

He had to admit: by the time he realized his mistakes, the feelings between them had already faded.

He had kept looking for the wrong reasons—kept thinking if he solved a few surface-level issues, things would go back to how they were.

But the only possible outcome was for them to go their separate ways.

It was already too late.