The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 2

The three of them aren’t used to this kind of attitude from him, but in the end, they need him to cook. Those few signature dishes can only be made by Jiang Tingzhou.

The sous-chef, who is relatively mild-mannered, usually shows him some respect. Trying to smooth things over, he says something about how drinking warm water might help him feel better, then adds that he’ll go find some medicine and leaves to boil water.

But Jiang Tingzhou doesn’t stop. He takes the towel off his head and throws it straight at the floor manager.

“Don’t just stand there. Go get me a new towel,” he says. “A clean one—damp but not dripping—and prepare a spare. Also bring me a change of clean clothes.”

The bewildered floor manager glances at the store manager. But when Jiang Tingzhou, still leaning there sickly, looks up at him, he flinches and steps back.

“Go,” Manager Yang grits his teeth. “Bring some antipyretics too. Whatever we’ve got in the store. Maybe a bit of physical cooling will help as well. Bring me a clean towel while you’re at it. Hurry, we’re running out of time.”

The floor manager rushes off.

Manager Yang has just wiped the sweat from Jiang Tingzhou’s face and body with a tissue, but Jiang Tingzhou waves him away. “What are you standing in front of me for? Go tell the kitchen to start prepping. Didn’t you say time is tight?”

Manager Yang is holding back his frustration, but seeing that Jiang Tingzhou has finally relented, he asks, “Tingzhou, are you agreeing to cook?”

Jiang Tingzhou leans there, curls his lips, and snorts.

He hasn’t said no—Manager Yang takes that as a yes.

In his experience, as long as he keeps pressuring Jiang Tingzhou, he eventually gets what he wants.

So he quickly sets aside any concern about Jiang Tingzhou’s condition and pushes forward. “We’ve got a lot of people coming this time. All the signature dishes have to be made. You need to be extra careful—got it?”

“Okay.” Jiang Tingzhou reaches out to wipe the cold sweat from his face. He coughs a few times and replies in a hoarse voice, “In addition to the award-winning dishes from Stuffed Rivers and Mountains, there’s also the most popular Fresh Spring Pot in the store, and the honey lotus seed dessert I just developed. I’ll need to make at least five or six dishes myself if we want to impress these distinguished guests with something no one else can match. Sounds good?”

Manager Yang doesn’t notice anything strange about his tone. All he hears is the mention of flavors that make people dream.

The honey lotus seeds are sweet but not cloying. Stuffed Rivers and Mountains is full of fresh aroma. The Fresh Spring Pot is something Jiang Tingzhou improved from Yan Du Xian. No one knows how he managed to turn such a simple homestyle dish into something rich, steaming, and popular with customers.

Today’s drizzle makes it the perfect weather for a pot of hearty country-style food.

“Great,” Manager Yang thinks. It’s all good news. He’s so excited, he almost forgets that Jiang Tingzhou is sick. “I think they’ll be very satisfied!”

“What are you waiting for?” If he weren’t so exhausted, Jiang Tingzhou might’ve clapped for him. “Go tell the kitchen to start prepping.”

Manager Yang rushes out, and the other three follow, leaving the small break room empty.

Jiang Tingzhou immediately sits up, takes his old coat from the closet, checks his pocket to make sure his wallet and phone are there, and slips out—not toward the kitchen, but toward the back.

At the end of the hallway is the outdoor fire escape.

The old Gongyan restaurant is in one of the best locations in Yongqing City’s old town, right next to People’s Park. It’s like a garden bordering Yongqing Lake, with pavilions and terraces, covering more than 1,000 square meters.

It’s spring and raining. If you sit by the window in the old shop, you can see willows swaying under the drizzle by Yongqing Lake—a scene worth its weight in gold.

But now Jiang Tingzhou steps out into the rain with only the hood of his coat. His feverish body feels hot and cold, his steps unsteady.

The Jiang family’s wealth means nothing to him anymore.

He walks through the back garden and out the park’s side exit. In just a few hundred meters, his shoes are soaked and his toes are freezing. He finally flags down a taxi to the nearest hospital. Because of the rain, the windows are shut, and the driver refuses to turn on the air conditioning. The damp, musty smell in the car makes his head pound even more.

Every breath reminds him of the cruel fact of his rebirth.

—The Jiang family he fought for over decades, his Cullinan and Maybach, his personal secretary and private doctor, have all disappeared in an instant.

He doesn’t even have the strength to curse the heavens.

But staying at the restaurant with those three idiots or collapsing in the rain would only make him more miserable. So Jiang Tingzhou forces himself to go to the hospital.

The People’s Hospital is crowded. He registers by himself. The doctor checks his temperature—it’s 39.5°C—and immediately recommends hospitalization. When the nurse sees how ill he is and that he came alone, she is surprised. She asks for an emergency contact.

Jiang Tingzhou pauses for a long time before saying, “Can I skip the emergency contact?”

The question makes his headache worse.

The nurse blinks, confused. “You need someone to take care of you in this condition. You should leave a family number so we can notify them.”

Jiang Tingzhou refuses without hesitation. “No family. No relatives.”

He has long since given up hope in that regard.

The nurse looks at him with some sympathy, then tries another angle. “In case something sudden happens, we need someone to contact. Maybe a girlfriend nearby? Or a friend who can come if needed?”

Jiang Tingzhou is about to say he’s single and has no friends locally, but then he remembers—

He’s 22 now, not 32. He isn’t single. He’s just started dating someone.

He’s only ever had one relationship, which lasted from age 22 to 28—six whole years. He and his boyfriend, Lu Baiyu, got together shortly after the Spring Festival in 2016, when Jiang Tingzhou confessed after winning a major competition.

Thinking of that relationship makes his head throb harder. He opens his mouth but can’t speak. Then suddenly, everything goes black and he faints.

The nurse jumps up in alarm, and people nearby help catch him.

Jiang Tingzhou vaguely hears someone sigh beside him: “So young… poor kid…”

Before his rebirth, something like this would never have happened. No one pitied Mr. Jiang.

Mr. Jiang didn’t need family or lovers. He had staff who took care of him without question. He didn’t end up collapsed on a cold hospital floor.

But now, he’s back in the nightmare of being unlikable, of working himself to the bone, collapsing alone, and no one caring.

Jiang Tingzhou is in a terrible mood.

He always feels God has it out for him—from the beginning until now.

He is the only son of the Jiang family. Though the Jiangs weren’t quite as wealthy back then, the Gongyan Restaurant had a reputation. They were a family with money and no worries.

But at age five, he went missing. After a serious illness, he lost his memory and his life changed entirely.

He was taken in and raised by a butcher. Once he was old enough to hold a knife, he learned to slaughter pigs to support himself. His adoptive father was lazy, drunk, and penniless. Jiang Tingzhou had to work from a young age and nearly missed out on the nine-year compulsory education.

Meanwhile, Jiang You had been adopted by the Jiang family in his place and grew up in luxury. He was like a little prince—polite, clever, loved by everyone.

When they first met, he called Jiang Tingzhou “brother” in a soft voice, all harmless smiles.

By some cruel coincidence, they were the same age and even shared the same birthday—Jiang You was born just an hour later.

Jiang Tingzhou, having known only hardship, had never seen someone as dazzling as Jiang You. His parents were still rushing back after hearing the news, and it was Jiang You who offered him clean clothes and a shower. The housekeeper said his younger brother had even given up his room for him.

Jiang Tingzhou was deeply moved. He thought he’d finally made it through hell and into heaven.

Cleaned up and in fresh clothes, he went to see his parents.

His mother’s reaction was emotional. She looked like she had cried outside—red eyes, trembling hands. When she saw him, she burst into tears and held his face to examine him closely.

His father was calmer. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. But then, after looking Jiang Tingzhou over, he frowned.

“Why are you wearing Xiaoyou’s clothes? That’s a gift the Lu family custom-ordered for him to wear at the banquet. It’s not appropriate for you.”

Back then, Jiang Tingzhou didn’t know who the Lu family was, nor how important they were to the Jiang family. But he could hear the reverence in his father’s tone—and the misplaced concern.

His mind cleared up a bit.

Looking down, he saw the clothes were indeed fine and new. But Jiang You was slimmer than him. Jiang Tingzhou’s broader frame had stretched the fabric—this custom-made outfit couldn’t be worn again at formal events.

He looked down at the clothes, then at Jiang You.

“Dad, forget it. Brother didn’t mean it,” Jiang You stepped forward and sighed. “I should take the blame. I had too many things to move, and my new room couldn’t fit them all. Some clothes were placed in the closet next to it. Maybe Brother wore them because he liked them, or maybe he accidentally took the wrong ones. He probably didn’t know.”

He looked generous and gentle, making Jiang Tingzhou seem rude and uncultured in contrast.

Father Jiang frowned and said, “Tingzhou, since you’re back home now, you can’t bring bad habits from the outside. You have to follow the rules. If you want something, you must tell me. Don’t take your brother’s things without asking.”

He still remembers the look in Jiang You’s eyes when he stood with his back to their parents, watching him—that was the moment Jiang Tingzhou snapped out of his euphoric dream.

Back then, Jiang You was still young and didn’t yet have the composure to lie without flinching. He never imagined that Jiang Tingzhou, who seemed lost and ignorant, was not someone who would silently endure being wronged.

“This really isn’t my fault,” Jiang Tingzhou said bluntly. “The clothes were there when I came out of the bathroom, so I thought they were for me and I wore them. First, if they were that important, you should’ve packed them up instead of leaving them out. Second, I never even opened the wardrobe or touched anything else, and yet everything else that needed to be moved is gone—how did you just happen to miss this one outfit? Is your new room so small that there’s no space for a single piece of clothing?”

At that time, Jiang Tingzhou was still very stubborn. He believed in drawing clear lines and demanding apologies when wronged.

Jiang You responded quickly, tears welling up as he apologized, saying he had forgotten about the clothes in his hurry to move rooms and hadn’t done it on purpose.

But Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t buying it. He grabbed Jiang You, insisting he explain things clearly.

In the struggle, Jiang You fell, hit his head on the coffee table, and started bleeding. It looked as if Jiang Tingzhou had deliberately pushed him.

In the end, it was Jiang Tingzhou who got scolded by their father for being unreasonable and reckless. Even his gentle mother stepped in to persuade him to stop being so harsh.

That was when Jiang Tingzhou realized that “green tea” people like Jiang You really existed—and that the home he had finally returned to wasn’t as warm or happy as he’d imagined.

They weren’t even biological brothers. In fact, before Jiang Tingzhou came back, many outsiders didn’t even know Jiang You had been adopted.

The Jiang family always claimed the two boys were twins, and that one had simply gone missing.

But once Jiang Tingzhou returned, it became obvious—they didn’t look alike at all. The truth of their origins was exposed. Jiang You was now in an awkward position and naturally resented Jiang Tingzhou, wanting to drive him away from the start.

This little green tea didn’t spare any effort in sowing discord between Jiang Tingzhou and their parents.

At school, Jiang Tingzhou transferred in and found himself isolated and helpless. Their father liked Jiang You, so the relatives favored him too. The housekeeper and servants had watched Jiang You grow up. At school, he had friends and even fans—he was a regular on a food show on TV at the time.

Mother Jiang was the only one who didn’t really show favoritism, but she was fragile, in poor health, and too delicate in nature to be of much help. She simply couldn’t change anything.

No matter how much love and effort he poured in, Jiang Tingzhou—who had come back with nothing—couldn’t bridge the gap through blood ties alone.

Even though he was the one who had suffered more, Jiang Tingzhou just wasn’t as likable as Jiang You, nor was he as manipulative. When he first came back, he was too blunt, too straightforward, unable to adapt. He struggled with the coursework at school and stayed at the bottom of the class. He didn’t fit in at all within the Jiang family circle.

Especially with Father Jiang—he had preferred Jiang You from the very first meeting. Jiang You was more polished, more popular, and had been raised by him.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t come off as easy to get along with either.

He was actually very good-looking, inheriting the best features of both parents, but his looks were so striking they bordered on aggressive. When he looked up at people, his eyes were like a little leopard’s—sharp and untamed. He had a scar on his cheek back then, running from the corner of his eye to the corner of his mouth. It made his smile look fierce.

That scar came from a fight with a senior student. It added a savage edge to him, warning people not to mess with him.

It took two or three years for the scar to fade, until he no longer looked like a gangster.

All the visible and invisible exclusions, all the different treatment—made Jiang Tingzhou’s life in the Jiang family harder than the poverty he’d endured before.

When he was seventeen, he finally snapped. A conflict with Jiang You exploded, and Jiang Tingzhou broke Jiang You’s nose. He was detained, faced expulsion from school, and missed the college entrance exam. It seemed like his life was ruined.

But even in that despair, he found the will to fight.

—Everything Jiang You had should’ve belonged to him. Why should he be treated so unfairly?

Jiang Tingzhou was someone who didn’t believe in fate. Even in his adoptive father’s home, suffering and tormented, he pushed forward. He didn’t think he was worse than anyone. He couldn’t understand how he had done nothing wrong yet ended up in such a miserable situation.

He made up his mind to compete with Jiang You for the rest of his life—and never give up.

After dropping out of school, he was introduced to Chef Wang, a renowned state banquet chef in China. The master saw his talent, took him in as his last apprentice, and trained him carefully, placing great hopes on him.

Father Jiang’s cooking was average, and he mostly ran the company. Jiang You followed the same path—cooking and appearing on programs more for show than substance.

But Jiang Tingzhou was different.

Chef Wang praised him often, saying he had never seen a child with more talent and drive.

Jiang Tingzhou worked hard, inherited his master’s techniques, and joined the Jiang family’s restaurant at nineteen, starting from the bottom. By twenty-two, he had become head chef.

At that point, the rivalry between him and Jiang You had grown fierce. They’d been competing openly and secretly for years. It was a crucial period.

Jiang You was undeniably capable. Otherwise, the rivalry wouldn’t have dragged on for so long. In the early years, Jiang Tingzhou was completely suppressed.

Jiang You had sharp business instincts. He started building his internet persona early. His dishes weren’t necessarily delicious, but they photographed well. He was attractive—his face as pretty as the food. When self-media first rose, he became the top influencer in the culinary space, with over ten million fans.

He soon began monetizing that traffic, launching a new restaurant brand, Xiangyun Peninsula, in Jiang City last year.

Unlike the traditional Chinese style of Gongyan, Xiangyun Peninsula embraced international luxury. Huge investments were made in decor. The place was visually stunning. Even casual photos went viral. The restaurant boomed with its aesthetic and curated experience. Staff were all good-looking. Ingredients were top-tier and imported. The prices were sky-high, but reservations were still hard to get. It quickly became a trendy hotspot. Within a year, its turnover almost equaled—or even surpassed—the old Gongyan.

Jiang Tingzhou never denied Jiang You’s ability, even though he was his mortal enemy. But he believed that relying only on hype and traffic wouldn’t last. He had eaten at Xiangyun Peninsula himself. The food didn’t match the prices or the reputation.

Restaurants can use the internet for promotion, but that can’t be the foundation. Good food is the foundation.

He stuck to his own philosophy and became the head chef at Gongyan. Both men had become mid-level managers in the Jiang company. So, at the end of last year, Father Jiang laid down a rule:

—The vice president position would be decided based on the first-quarter performance of Gongyan versus Xiangyun Peninsula.

The contest between the two Jiang “brothers” was no longer child’s play. It was about the company’s future direction and the first step in the heir battle.

It was almost laughable—Jiang Tingzhou sometimes wondered if he were living in a novel. Jiang You was the popular protagonist. Everyone liked him. Everything came easy.

And he? He was the unloved foil.

In his past life, he worked through fevers, still cooking nonstop, because this competition gave him a rare, relatively fair opportunity to stand on equal footing with Jiang You. It meant so much to him that no price seemed too high.

Jiang Tingzhou had always wanted to prove that there are no chosen protagonists in this world. As long as you work hard, you can succeed.

But who would’ve thought? He fought all the way to the end—only to make wedding clothes for Jiang You.

By then, Father Jiang had suffered a stroke and was paralyzed, unable to speak. Mother Jiang remained frail. After Jiang Tingzhou died in a car accident, it was still Jiang You—the chosen one—who got everything.

He had proved himself again and again, but in the end, he no longer knew what it even meant.

Just thinking about it now filled Jiang Tingzhou with renewed anger.