The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 129

Jiang Tingzhou had eaten at the Zhou family’s restaurants a few times and always gave it high praise.

Zhou Bing’s father, once the champion of a professional chef competition, lived up to his reputation. He personally ensured the taste and stability of the food, and the quality at his restaurants consistently surpassed other establishments in the same price range. 

Now in his fifties, he still went into the kitchen every day to work with his chefs, constantly experimenting with new dishes. He was meticulous and responsible.

Even with relatively high prices, their stir-fry restaurants had continued to thrive despite market pressure. That could only mean one thing: the flavor was truly remarkable.

Moreover, consumption levels in Yongqing were high, and the Zhou family’s restaurants were all located in busy areas like downtown and the CBD. Many of their customers were well-paid white-collar workers. 

The Zhou family had started selling meals on their own early on. With a strong and steady customer base, profitability naturally followed.

But even so, they had hit a ceiling.

“Bingcheng has a lot of stores,” Jiang Tingzhou said, “but most of them are small fast-food spots. They’re not like the two large dine-in stores in the sugar factory. Your per-person order value makes up more than half of your revenue.”

That meant their main customer base was extremely price-sensitive. Even a small price difference could determine whether a customer bought the meal or not.

Zhou Bing sat up a bit straighter, seriously considering what Jiang Tingzhou had said.

He had long thought about the issue of pricing. Bingcheng Chao had been around for a while and had plenty of repeat customers, but some customers had indeed complained about the price. 

In this business, if you’re not cutting corners on ingredients or volume, your costs won’t be low.

Now, with competition growing fiercer, relying on loyal customers was no longer enough—they needed innovation.

Jiang Tingzhou was right. Even if President Zhong wasn’t targeting them, there were still countless other fast-food chains to contend with. These days, most meal sets are priced around 10 to 20 yuan. With coupons and platform discounts, some places offered even cheaper options.

While Bingcheng’s stir-fried dishes tasted better, to the average consumer, they were double the price—and that made people hesitate. For budget-conscious customers, Bingcheng wasn’t even on their radar.

“We need to find a way to attract those potential customers,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Right now, your price bracket is in a very awkward position.”

Zhou Bing asked, “What do you suggest, Boss Jiang?”

“Start by creating a traffic-driving product,” Jiang Tingzhou replied.

The idea was simple: introduce an extremely affordable item, one that made barely any profit, but could bring people in the door.

He pointed out that the cheapest item on Bingcheng’s menu was the tomato and scrambled egg meal, priced at 26 yuan. But oddly, it had the lowest sales volume.

“Because customers think it’s not worth it,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Even if this tomato and egg dish tastes better than others and uses quality ingredients, at that price—even I wouldn’t choose it. It needs to be cheaper.”

His suggestion: lower the entry point to somewhere around a dozen yuan.

Zhou Bing hesitated. He had thought about this before too. “But we have to factor in costs—ingredients, labor, rent. If we sell something for just over ten yuan, we can only shrink the portion size. We tried that before, and customers were furious. Complaints poured in.”

Bingcheng was known for its generous portions. The moment that reputation slipped, they had to revert to the old format.

“Keep the existing offerings,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “And try something new alongside them. For example, I had the eggplant meat sauce your father made last time—it was great. Why not turn that into a meat sauce noodle dish?”

Noodles? They’d never made noodle-based dishes before, always focusing on stir-fry. The eggplant meat sauce was originally developed to go with rice. It was rich, flavorful, and not expensive to make.

In a noodle dish, the handmade noodles would make up the bulk of the meal. Increasing the portion wouldn’t raise the cost significantly and would still ensure the customer felt full. The meat sauce would serve as seasoning. 

Compared to a full stir-fried dish, the quantity needed was smaller. Toss in a few greens, and the cost remained manageable.

And sourcing noodles was easy. Restaurants didn’t need to make them in-house—there were plenty of fresh noodle suppliers in Yongqing’s vegetable markets. Custom orders were common, and the shelf life was enough for daily use.

Plus, Jiang Tingzhou added, “I remember Bingcheng’s side dishes are excellent—like your homemade pickled cabbage and sour beans. You could add those as sides to the noodle bowl.”

Nothing fancy. No need for full set meals. Just a single, satisfying dish priced right.

Zhou Bing immediately started doing mental math, calculating the lowest viable price point.

“12.80 yuan,” he said finally. “At that price, we won’t lose money, and we’ll still earn a small margin.”

He understood Jiang Tingzhou’s idea now.

The goal of this dish wasn’t to turn a profit, but to get customers in the door—to give them a taste of Bingcheng that stood out from other fast food. Once they ate it once, they’d come back for the pricier meals.

Jiang Tingzhou nodded. “Exactly. And on top of this, your current meal combos should also be redesigned.”

The existing sets were abundant—but too much for one person.

Instead, give customers more control over what they get.

“Try a 1+N model,” Jiang Tingzhou explained. “Reduce some popular single-person sets to just over 20 yuan. That’ll make them much more appealing.”

The 1+N model meant one main dish plus an optional side. You didn’t need to include vegetables, soup, and drinks all at once. Just let customers pick one. You could even add more variety—like snacks or desserts.

“For example, you could offer scones or desserts.”

As he spoke, Jiang Tingzhou pulled out a portion of rose milk jelly from a mini fridge nearby and set it in front of them. “Milk jelly or other small sweets work great. The sugar factory sells plenty of snacks. I know Deng’s Pastry Shop well. If you ordered in bulk, they’d give you a great wholesale price. You’d even profit off these small items.”

At the 20-yuan range, competition was fiercest. Beyond taste, variety and flexibility mattered a lot.

After all—who could resist a tasty little dessert after a meal?

This kind of update would expand Bingcheng’s product line under 30 yuan. If customers still wanted the full-sized set meals, they’d have the choice—along with more options than before.

But that wasn’t enough.

“We’re not just lowering prices,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “We also need to highlight your premium offerings.”

The goal wasn’t just survival—it was profit.

The 30 to 40 yuan range was awkward: too expensive for budget diners, but not enticing enough for those looking to splurge.

“Make something high-end. Choose the best ingredients, add plenty of meat, and make it refined. Launch one or two luxury single-person sets—priced at 70, 80, even 100 yuan,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “There are a lot of people in Yongqing willing to spend money on food. If the quality is there, this will be your real profit driver.”

He believed Bingcheng’s culinary skills were more than enough to claim this market segment. Delivery didn’t have to mean cheap and basic. Every price tier has its audience—it’s just a matter of matching the right product to the right customer.

Zhou Bing finally understood. He jotted everything down, his mind racing with ideas. His expression turned serious.

“I’ll discuss this with my father and the board right away,” he said.

There was no time to waste. President Zhong’s price war was just getting started.

He stood up to leave, but before heading out, he remembered to update Jiang Tingzhou on their progress.

As for “Jinyuhui,” the Zhou family also had investments there. He was directly involved in its planning, and things were going smoothly. He reassured Jiang Tingzhou not to worry.

Wen Qi had quietly listened throughout the conversation and only chimed in after Zhou Bing left. He added a few remarks about the preparation for Jinyuhui and upcoming restaurant projects.

Then he hesitated, lowered his voice, and spoke more cautiously. “Boss Jiang, are we really going to involve ourselves in Bingcheng’s operations? I’m just afraid…”

Jiang Tingzhou glanced at him and replied, “I know what you mean.”

Although their two companies were working closely and Jiang Tingzhou had a strong relationship with Zhou Bing, Wen Qi’s concern was valid.

Generally, it wasn’t wise to get involved in another company’s internal affairs. Even if Jiang Tingzhou only gave advice, Zhou Bing clearly took his words seriously.

That was fine—if the suggestions worked. But business always involved risk.

President Zhong had been targeting the Zhou family relentlessly this year. If these changes didn’t go well, it could strain their cooperation and damage the relationship.

Wen Qi wasn’t wrong to worry. He just didn’t want Jiang to end up with unintended consequences for being too helpful.

“It’s risky, yes,” Jiang Tingzhou said, “but I’ll still make these suggestions.”

He wasn’t helping just because he was close to Bingcheng—it was also a strategic business move.

He had already made an enemy in Zhong Qianqian. In the business world, enemies are inevitable. But when you make enemies, you also need to make friends—and keep making them.

No matter how successful the Sugar Factory was, going solo was never ideal.

“Wen Qi, you’ve seen for yourself—Bingcheng’s food is great, but there’s room for growth. Their expansion into the Sugar Factory Commercial Street is the perfect time for change. This is a chance to level up the brand. That benefits not just them, but also me and the Sugar Factory.”

He wanted the market to take notice. He wanted the industry, the business associations, and the people watching from the sidelines to see that even in a showdown with a powerful figure like President Zhong, anyone who allied with Jiang Tingzhou would rise—and thrive.

Wen Qi understood.

Jiang Tingzhou had said this much—there was nothing more to argue.

“…But,” Jiang added, his tone shifting slightly, “Menu and pricing changes are just one part. I still feel like something’s missing.”