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

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

The sous-chef, who was relatively mild-mannered, usually showed him some respect. Trying to smooth things over, he said something about how drinking warm water might help him feel better, then added that he’d go find some medicine and left to boil water.

But Jiang Tingzhou didn’t stop. He took the towel off his head and threw it straight at the floor manager.

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

The bewildered floor manager glanced at the store manager. But when Jiang Tingzhou, still leaning there sickly, looked up at him, he flinched and stepped back.

“Go,” Manager Yang gritted 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 rushed off.

Manager Yang had just wiped the sweat from Jiang Tingzhou’s face and body with a tissue, but Jiang Tingzhou waved 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 was holding back his frustration, but seeing that Jiang Tingzhou had finally relented, he asked, “Tingzhou, are you agreeing to cook?”

Jiang Tingzhou leaned there, curled his lips, and snorted.

He hadn’t said no—Manager Yang took that as a yes.

In his experience, as long as he kept pressuring Jiang Tingzhou, he eventually got what he wanted.

So he quickly set aside any concern about Jiang Tingzhou’s condition and pushed 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 reached out to wipe the cold sweat from his face. He coughed a few times and replied 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 didn’t notice anything strange about his tone. All he heard was the mention of flavors that made people dream.

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

That day’s drizzle made it the perfect weather for a pot of hearty country-style food.

“Great,” Manager Yang thought. It was all good news. He was so excited, he almost forgot that Jiang Tingzhou was 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 rushed out, and the other three followed, leaving the small break room empty.

Jiang Tingzhou immediately sat up, took his old coat from the closet, checked his pocket to make sure his wallet and phone were there, and slipped out—not toward the kitchen, but toward the back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’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 forced himself to go to the hospital.

The People’s Hospital was crowded. He registered by himself. The doctor checked his temperature—it was 39.5°C—and immediately recommended hospitalization. When the nurse saw how ill he was and that he came alone, she was surprised. She asked for an emergency contact.

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

The question made his headache worse.

The nurse blinked, 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 refused without hesitation. “No family. No relatives.”

He had long since given up hope in that regard.

The nurse looked at him with some sympathy, then tried 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 was about to say he was single and had no friends locally, but then he remembered—

He was 22 now, not 32. He wasn’t single. He had just started dating someone.

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

Thinking of that relationship made his head throb harder. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. Then suddenly, everything went black and he fainted.

The nurse jumped up in alarm, and people nearby helped catch him.

Jiang Tingzhou vaguely heard 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 was back in the nightmare of being unlikable, of working himself to the bone, collapsing alone, and no one caring.

Jiang Tingzhou was in a terrible mood.

He always felt God had it out for him—from the beginning until now.

He was 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 had offered him clean clothes and a shower. The housekeeper had said his younger brother had even given up his room for him.

Jiang Tingzhou had been 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 hadn’t known 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 remembered 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 had still been young and hadn’t yet had the composure to lie without flinching. He had 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 had still been very stubborn. He had believed in drawing clear lines and demanding apologies when wronged.

Jiang You had 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 hadn’t been buying it. He had grabbed Jiang You, insisting he explain things clearly.

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

In the end, it was Jiang Tingzhou who had gotten scolded by their father for being unreasonable and reckless. Even his gentle mother had 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 hadn’t even been biological brothers. In fact, before Jiang Tingzhou came back, many outsiders hadn’t even known Jiang You had been adopted.

The Jiang family had 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 had been 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 hadn’t spared any effort in sowing discord between Jiang Tingzhou and their parents.

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

Mother Jiang had been the only one who hadn’t really shown 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 had first come back, he had been too blunt, too straightforward, unable to adapt. He had struggled with the coursework at school and stayed at the bottom of the class. He hadn’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 hadn’t come off as easy to get along with either.

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

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

It had taken 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—had made Jiang Tingzhou’s life in the Jiang family harder than the poverty he’d endured before.

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

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

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

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

He had 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 had been introduced to Chef Wang, a renowned state banquet chef in China. The master had seen his talent, taken him in as his last apprentice, and trained him carefully, placing great hopes on him.

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

But Jiang Tingzhou was different.

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

Jiang Tingzhou had 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 had been competing openly and secretly for years. It had been a crucial period.

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

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

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

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

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

Restaurants could use the internet for promotion, but that couldn’t be the foundation. Good food had to be the foundation.

He had stuck to his own philosophy and become 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 had 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” had been no longer child’s play. It had been about the company’s future direction and the first step in the heir battle.

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

And he? He had been the unloved foil.

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

Jiang Tingzhou had always wanted to prove that there were no chosen protagonists in this world. As long as you worked hard, you could succeed.

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

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