The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 130

Wen Qi was stunned. “What’s missing?”

He thought the current setup was fairly comprehensive. They had considered everything—cheap, ordinary, and premium items, plus a variety of sides and snacks.

“If we go with this approach, sure, the product line will be rich. But if others continue copying us, we’ll still be dragged into a price war,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “It’s not sustainable to let ourselves be dictated by competitors every time.”

Bingcheng was a chain brand. Apart from its “good taste,” it hadn’t yet established true brand recognition or a strong protective moat.

There were too many similar stores for customers to choose from, so the moment someone else lowered prices, Bingcheng would be in a passive position.

Although the food tasted good, it was, after all, positioned as an affordable option—not something that amazed people with the first bite. The menu mostly offered home-style dishes spanning various cuisines. It lacked the distinctiveness of Jianghu cuisine or Northeastern dishes from the sugar factory, which could target specific customer bases directly.

In trying to be comprehensive, Bingcheng had lost any defining feature.

And in truth, it’s hardest to gain true recognition from consumers.

Wen Qi fell silent. He had been thinking too, but couldn’t come up with a solution. He instinctively turned to look at Jiang Tingzhou, always assuming that if anyone could crack a problem like this, it would be him.

But Jiang Tingzhou just shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not a god—I don’t know either,” he said. “If we could solve everything just sitting here, no one in this world would need to worry anymore.”

In moments like this, what you needed was fieldwork.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to go far. The Bingcheng flagship store was just across the street. Jiang Tingzhou could visit anytime.

He decided to wrap up what he was working on first, then go home to water the garden.

In the short time they’d been talking, Wen Qi noticed Jiang Tingzhou had already finished a second bowl of rose milk pudding. The dessert really did look delicious—the aroma alone was sweetly tempting.

But just remembering who had sent it made it hard to swallow.

Luckily, Lu Baiyu wasn’t around.

If he saw this, his tail would probably be up in the air with pride.

Even as Wen Qi silently clenched his jaw, thinking, I absolutely cannot let him find out, some things were simply beyond his control.

Later, when Jiang Tingzhou asked him to visit the Bingcheng store, Wen Qi had a thought. Since Jiang seemed to enjoy those little treats, he decided to bring some himself.

Of course, he wasn’t about to bring anything from the sugar factory—that would be too obvious. Instead, he went to a well-known local shop and picked up a trendy lemon cheese stick, holding it now as he waited at the corner.

Finally, Jiang Tingzhou arrived—already eating something. At first glance, Wen Qi thought it was a crepe or something, but as he got closer, he recognized the familiar fragrance of rose and milk.

“It’s rose milk rushan” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Just arrived today.”

It came in a vacuum-sealed package, air-shipped from the source. Just heat it up at home and it’s ready to eat. 

While some people weren’t used to the taste of rushan, Jiang Tingzhou loved it.

He was never one to eat alone. When he saw Wen Qi had brought a cheese stick, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another snack—a packaged milk puff with a rich dairy scent and a sweet rose filling.

“Want to try one? I had one earlier. It’s delicious.”

“…I’ll pass,” Wen Qi said.

He was starting to feel allergic to the smell of roses.

Even the sour scent of the lemon cheese stick in his hand started to sting a little.

He didn’t need to ask. Just the thought of who must have sent it was enough to make his chest feel tight.

Lu Baiyu had always been the type to latch onto someone’s preferences once he learned them—and now, even from a distance, he was getting better at catering to Jiang Tingzhou’s tastes.

But still, these snacks weren’t the main issue. Jiang Tingzhou ate them casually, and today they had serious business.

Bingcheng’s store in the Sugar Factory Commercial Street was about to open. The whole team had arrived, ready to begin cooking trials.

Jiang Tingzhou dropped by not only in response to the Zhou family’s invitation but also to figure out what was still missing.

Besides Zhou Bing, two vice presidents of Bingcheng were also at the store. When they saw Jiang Tingzhou, they stepped up to shake his hand.

“It’s an honor to have you here.”

Having so many people show up before the store’s official opening showed just how much importance they placed on this. 

Zhou Bing was especially enthusiastic. “My father took your advice seriously and is already implementing the changes. He’s moving fast.”

The vice president added, “Mr. Jiang, you have experience. We’d appreciate any suggestions you might have.”

They all recognized that the sugar factory had become a hot location. Before, barely anyone came here. Now, even though the store hadn’t opened, curious customers had already stopped by multiple times asking if it was open. It was sure to be popular once it launched.

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Jiang Tingzhou replied. “I hope Bingcheng flourishes in the sugar factory—and that we can all make some good money together.”

The vice president smiled. “We’ll take that as a blessing.”

Jiang Tingzhou looked around. The store had two floors and spanned over 200 square meters—a large space for a fast food joint. The kitchen was even more expansive than in typical branches.

The Zhou family had taken a cue from the sugar factory, setting up a dedicated food lab here. New dishes would be tested here first, with user feedback collected before a nationwide rollout.

But after inspecting the site, Jiang Tingzhou still had no specific feedback to offer.

Bingcheng wasn’t new to the game. All the equipment was in place, the staff was well-prepared, and the shop decor was clean and tidy. He’d already discussed the menu previously, and from front-of-house to back-of-house, everything was in order.

He sampled several trial dishes on-site—they were excellent. Zhou Bing even made sure to bring him the eggplant meat sauce noodles he had mentioned.

Bingcheng used slightly thick handmade noodles with a springy texture. The sauce had been improved—rich and flavorful. It came as a topping, and though priced at 12.8 yuan, the takeaway packaging was thoughtfully designed. Noodles and sauce were packed separately to avoid clumping, and garnishes like scallions and cilantro were also packaged individually.

Once everything was combined and mixed, with an optional drizzle of their signature chili oil and a side of pickled shredded radish, each bite was hearty and satisfying.

“Very fragrant,” Wen Qi praised. “Tastes like home.”

Jiang Tingzhou could tell instantly that Zhou Bing wasn’t lying when he said this product was meant to attract customers. In a high-cost city like Yongqing, pricing it at 12.8 yuan meant they were operating on razor-thin margins.

And that was just the beginning. Bingcheng was ready to launch more varieties—tomato meat sauce, soybean meat sauce, green pepper meat sauce. The aim was clear: keep it cheap, keep it filling, keep it moving.

With such sincerity, Jiang Tingzhou had no complaints.

Still, after touring the shop and observing everything closely for over two hours, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

To most people, this level of preparation would be considered flawless. Even Zhou Bing himself thought it was enough. But Jiang Tingzhou remained focused on one question—what would make Bingcheng Chao truly recognizable and difficult to replicate?

At lunchtime, the employees were getting ready for their meal.

In most restaurants, employee meals are staggered and served during off-hours, sometimes brought in from outside or cooked separately in the back kitchen.

But what Jiang Tingzhou saw here was different.

He watched for a moment, then turned to Zhou Bing and asked, “Is this how your stores always handle staff meals?”

Zhou Bing nodded. “Yes. The ingredients are all from today’s delivery. The meals change daily, but everything is selected from our official menu. In other words, the employees eat what the customers eat.”

When placing ingredient orders, they always add enough for staff meals. The on-duty chefs cook them using the same equipment and procedures. No separate cooking is allowed.

And here was the key—employees could opt out, but the store manager, assistant manager, and head chef were required to eat it. Surveillance footage must be uploaded, and every employee must supervise.

“It’s both a perk and a policy,” Zhou Bing explained. “We have too many stores to monitor all at once. Surveillance only goes so far. But if everyone from the store manager to the dishwasher is eating the same food, day after day, then at least we can guarantee the food is clean.”

The manager oversees procurement and inventory. The assistant manager handles kitchen equipment and cleanliness. The chef does the cooking. These are the people who know the store best.

If they’re willing to eat the food, it speaks volumes.

Bingcheng’s stores are all company-owned, and headquarters maintain strict control. Surprise inspections are common, and the posted rules in the kitchen were even more detailed than city health regulations.

Zhou Bing added, “We’ve had to fire store managers who tried to skirt the rules or find loopholes.”

Wen Qi was surprised. “That strict?”

“Shouldn’t it be?” Zhou Bing replied. “We’ve followed this policy since the first store opened. It’s not just the staff—senior execs eat the same food, too.”

Sure enough, Zhou Bing and the two vice presidents sat down at the same tables as the employees, eating the same meals. It was just part of the routine.

The restaurant served its food to its own people first—only then could it confidently serve customers.

Zhou Bing assumed the topic was settled, so he pulled out his phone to show Jiang Tingzhou a poster the art team had just finished—a promo for the 12.8 yuan meat sauce noodles.

“The company cafeteria served it today too. Everyone liked it. We’re planning a major ad push.”

President Zhong’s chain was about to launch a major round of price cuts. Judging from past experience, Bingcheng would be hit first.

Zhou Bing couldn’t help but feel nervous.

But just then, as if a spark ignited, inspiration struck Jiang Tingzhou.

He looked at the poster—then at the employees eating their meals—and suddenly, it all became clear.

“This poster looks great,” he said. “Low-priced meals should be advertised—but one sign at the door is enough to catch people’s attention.”

Then he pointed at the staff tables. “This, right here, is what you need to promote heavily.”

Zhou Bing blinked. “You mean… the chef? Or one of the employees?”

“No—the rule,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Or more accurately, the people who uphold it from top to bottom.”

That’s when it clicked.

What he’d sensed—the missing piece—wasn’t a dish, a price point, or a catchy name.

It was the integrity behind the food.

Every detail—the hygiene protocols, the mandatory meals for management, the color-coded rags, the meticulous cleaning routines—especially in the delivery prep area that customers never even saw.

This was Bingcheng’s true protective moat.

And it was nearly impossible to copy.