The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 29

The Xu family was out of luck, while An Xiaoping was making money—and what was more, he suddenly figured out exactly how he wanted to make videos from then on.
Opportunities like what happened with Xu Feng were hard to come by, but he kept making videos about food and his daily life, especially since Jiang Tingzhou gave him encouragement and affirmation.

“I found the video you shot,” Jiang Tingzhou already opened the app and smoothly found the trending list. “It’s shot well. Keep going. If you need anything, let me know.”

Tian Hui said similar things before, but Jiang Tingzhou never felt like he was anyone’s lucky charm—he figured it was already good if he wasn’t a jinx.

He flipped through the pages and saw that this video platform, which would gain more users and firmly rank first in daily active users within a few years, was still very simple. It had few users and was still in the stage of intensive promotion. Although 4G networks were already widespread, video-based self-media hadn’t yet taken off. User-made videos were still very simple, mostly close-up face shots to show beauty, and most were low quality.

In comparison, An Xiaoping’s equipment was very good and clear, with a sense of aesthetic framing. The scenes looked clean, and he looked great on camera—he had a natural advantage.

“I’ve decided to shift focus. Weibo is boring, brother. You’re right. Short videos will definitely be the trend,” An Xiaoping said, watching his fan count grow and calming down a bit. “Besides, I can’t just rely on my face. Interesting content is king now.”

An Xiaoping carefully studied the comments. Half praised his good looks, while the other half mentioned how appetizing he looked when eating. Some liked his cute personality, and others enjoyed this slice-of-life style.

The video about the sugar factory was the most popular because it carried nostalgia. The candied winter melon and lard candy from the plate store appeared only for a few seconds, but sparked a lot of discussion. Everyone talked about the snacks they ate as kids.

The key was finding his own style.
This “pretty boy with a twist” angle was rare, and the public had memories attached to certain foods. He stumbled into the right formula by accident, but now it felt like divine inspiration—he suddenly understood it all.

An Xiaoping loved to eat—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so fat since childhood—and he was very familiar with the Shangying–Yongqing area. When he was a kid, his parents worked in Shangying, and he followed them to eat at many long-established eateries. After his parents died unexpectedly, he lived with his grandmother. He knew all the delicious food in the Yongqing Old Market.

“Tomorrow I’m going to put on killer makeup and go out to buy some of the old-style candies that the sugar factory has been making for years. I’ll ride the wave from the lard sugar and candied winter melon videos and shoot an eating vlog,” An Xiaoping said. “I’m definitely going to keep getting better and better.”

He was full of confidence this time, and there was something he didn’t say out loud, but he thought it clearly.

Xu Feng would pay the price for what happened—but Xu Feng was never the main enemy. The real issue was Jiang You, the Jiang family, and even Lu Jiahe and those who made Jiang Tingzhou feel unhappy.

An Xiaoping knew he had almost no chance of reaching the height of a family like the Lus. But after trending once, the public’s attention was already there. At the very least, he wanted to make sure no one dared bully Jiang Tingzhou in front of him again.

The food content niche was always a strong and enduring one. Now that he stumbled into it, it felt like destiny had handed him this opportunity.

Jiang Tingzhou liked all his recent videos, especially the one about Xu Feng. In his last life, the Xu family brought ruin on themselves and even dragged down several related parties. This time, it just happened a little earlier.

As he was about to put his phone away, he accidentally swiped down with wet hands, and the next video that came up happened to be Jiang You’s.

Jiang You was indeed a master at attracting traffic and was one of the first bloggers to join the short video platform. Xu Feng’s kind of social gossip couldn’t compare. Just one of Jiang You’s videos already broke a million likes, in a completely different league.

The platform auto-played the video. Jiang You appeared with a wound on his face that no one knew how he got.

“I haven’t posted a video for several days. I had a small accident and got hurt. Don’t dislike me,” he said with a smile, slightly tilting his face to the camera.

There was an obvious bruise on his forehead. Makeup covered it a bit but didn’t completely hide it. Jiang You carefully chose the wound’s location and size, making it look like a heart-shaped mark.

He avoided the cheek because it would move when he spoke, making the wound look ugly. The area around the eyes was no good either. The forehead was perfect. He styled his bangs to avoid covering it. The bruises were covered by makeup and didn’t look scary—instead, the redness made him look pitiful.

Even if Lu Baiyu appeared right then, he wouldn’t be able to expose him. Jiang You could explain it as an injury from trying to stop an impulsive bodyguard from breaking a door. It didn’t hurt at the time but flared up later. No wonder others rushed to defend him. Plus, the dish he made this time really stood out.

Xiangyun Peninsula specialized in a supposed fusion of Chinese and Western cuisine, but in reality, their dishes leaned more Western. Jiang You, on the other hand, made a local Yongqing specialty: fish lips and shark fin in abalone sauce.

This dish used expensive ingredients and was only eaten at high-end banquets. Jiang You’s ingredients were the best of the best. After careful stewing, the dish was soft, tender, and fragrant—it was undeniably a great dish.

If this was presented as a signature Yongqing dish, it seemed extremely upscale. Not like those traditional cheap candies such as lard sugar candy, which locals didn’t even want. Most locals had heard of this dish, but few had actually eaten it.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t finish watching the video. He swiped and switched to the likes interface to check.

Most recent likes came from new accounts—water army or bot accounts. Jiang You had a lot of traffic but still obviously purchased visibility for this post. It was popular not only on this short video platform but also others.

It was clearly to create momentum.
Jiang Tingzhou knew exactly what momentum Jiang You was building.

The director team of the second season of A Bite of China would soon come to Yongqing to collect materials. Jiang You would definitely try to grab this rare opportunity.

But not everyone could reach for A Bite of China love.

The Lu Group took the lead because of Jiang Tingzhou’s influence, but this kind of benefit wasn’t easy to monopolize.

The Lu Group took the lead because of Jiang Tingzhou’s influence, but this kind of benefit wasn’t easy to monopolize.

The logistics business competition was fierce and bloody. The Lu Group’s old rival, Suda Express, was based in the capital and had good relations with CCTV. For the Lu Group to get naming rights on A Bite of China was equivalent to stealing meat from a tiger’s jaws.

Their relationship was very bad. If it weren’t a peaceful era, Suda Express’s CEO, Zheng Zeshi, would probably want to kill Lu Zhenting and Lu Baiyu on sight—but they were too well-protected.

In this situation, peace was impossible.

The stakes were too high. Even the Lu family was treading cautiously. Qin Rushuang didn’t want the news public yet. If Jiang You rushed in blindly, he’d likely get bitten hard.

There was a particularly conspicuous comment below Jiang You’s video. It was from a verified user, certified as deputy director of A Bite of China, a CCTV person named Sun Hui. He commented: “It’s done very well.” Followed by three thumbs-up emojis.

Jiang You immediately replied, thanking the director. That alone sent his fanbase into a frenzy.

It looked like an amazing opportunity—so much so that people could lose their heads. The timing of that assistant director’s appearance seemed too perfect to be a coincidence, but people desperate for recognition often lost their sense of caution.

Jiang Tingzhou knew Jiang You was actually of no real value. The valuable one was Lu Jiahe beside him.

Lu Jiahe was appointed by his own mother to take charge of the A Bite of China project.

As for Xu Feng’s scandal, someone else took the fall. Jiang Tingzhou knew the Lu family would never allow him to take the heat. Lu Baiyu—and even Qin Rushuang—tried calling him to explain, but he rejected the calls without even listening.

Lu Jiahe dodged one bullet, but he wouldn’t dodge the next. He was the Lu family’s biggest weakness.

What fell from the sky wasn’t always a pie—sometimes it was a trap.

Jiang Tingzhou knew this.
It was still early, so he blocked Jiang You’s account, put his phone away, changed clothes, and went to the yard. He hadn’t had time to do his morning Baduanjin yet.

Jiang You’s fish lips and abalone soup video was shot the previous afternoon. After finishing, he carefully set it aside and watched Lu Jiahe, who was in a bad mood.

“Jiahe, try this,” he said gently. “There’s another bowl here. Let’s take it to Aunt Qin to try. Maybe she’ll like it. Eating this can replenish the body. By the way, she wasn’t angry with me last time, right?”

Lu Jiahe took a bite. His eyes lit up slightly, and he praised it as very well made.

“Of course not. My mom has always liked you. How could she be mad over something like that?” he said. “Things were just too chaotic at the time. My brother didn’t see clearly. You got caught up in a mess caused by idiots like Xu Feng. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

The smile on Jiang You’s face suddenly faded. That’s good, then. I feel relieved. Jiahe, actually this dish has been in the Jiang family for generations. When we entertain the director’s team, I think this one’s definitely worthy, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes, your reminder is very correct,” Lu Jiahe ate quickly, finishing the bowl in just a few bites without savoring it carefully. “The director team will be here soon. We can’t keep dragging out the chance Jiang Tingzhou brought us.”

Jiang You: “…”

His smile froze. The bruise on his forehead now looked almost comical.

Though he still kept smiling, his hands clenched tightly under the table, veins bulging.

Today, he finally confirmed that even Lu Jiahe didn’t want to include him in the A Bite of China project.

Good food was something that couldn’t be faked.

Lu Jiahe was straightforward and said what he thought. He knew very well that what the camera captured, what the eye saw, what the nose smelled, and what was actually eaten were three completely different things.

Jiang You’s dishes looked good and appetizing. His team was top-notch, from set design to execution. The entire network called him a young genius chef.

But the problem was, the Lu family had eaten Jiang Tingzhou’s food.

Anyone who truly ate his cooking couldn’t deny he was a naturally gifted, top-tier chef. The taste of his dishes couldn’t be packaged or copied.

Why was it that even after leaving the Jiang family, Jiang Tingzhou still had such a strong presence? Why did the A Bite of China community hold him in such regard by default? Why did everyone just assume A Bite of China should involve him?

Jiang You boiled with hatred.

He posted videos later, working hard to build momentum. His videos got praise. Under the careful guidance of his team, comments with many likes specifically mentioned A Bite of China, saying this dish could represent Yongqing and even Dongjiang Province’s cuisine.

He fought for this opportunity.

Then, Jiang You finally received a comment from Deputy Director Sun.

Though it wasn’t from the chief director, the deputy director’s approval was enough to show A Bite of China had noticed him.

“Jiahe, I can be on A Bite of China by myself,” Jiang You sought out Lu Jiahe. “Believe me.”

He was so happy he didn’t care about anything else.

Lu Jiahe was surprised by the comment, but after thinking it over, he didn’t stop working on his side of the plan. Lu Baiyu was still away on a business trip, and he wanted to wrap everything up quickly while he had time.

He didn’t even realize: Jiang You no longer existed in his mind.

All he could think about was Jiang Tingzhou.

Meanwhile, Jiang Tingzhou was still enjoying his leisure days. His work-rest schedule didn’t change. The outside chaos didn’t affect him. His only recent frustration was that his vegetables weren’t growing as smoothly as he hoped.

The bluestone brick road in the yard was being paved slowly—slower than planned. He was doing everything himself and meticulously, intending to plant some eggplants, build trellises by the wall, grow beans beside the pumpkins and cucumbers… but then, a small problem cropped up.

The tomatoes were doing fine. One of them had already bloomed tiny yellow flowers. The red onions he planted in a pot had sprouted visibly. But the vegetable seeds he sowed weren’t growing well.

Why weren’t the baby bok choy and Chinese spinach sprouting?

Jiang Tingzhou crouched down, almost lying flat on the ground to inspect. He saw a few green shoots.

That didn’t make sense.

When he bought the seeds, the seller told him they usually germinated in two or three days. Several days passed. There were some sprouts in the field, but far fewer than expected.

Jiang Tingzhou felt something was wrong—the germination rate was too low. The seller said maybe it was due to insufficient fertilizer and sold him a bag on the spot. Jiang Tingzhou applied it, but that day, there was little effect.

Short videos online weren’t yet well-developed, and the search ads were mixed with all kinds of information. Jiang Tingzhou didn’t understand the exact situation or solution. He was afraid he might kill the few sprouts that finally came up.

He checked that morning—the germination rate was still poor. After breakfast, he planned to visit Master Zhu, who delivered his tomato seedlings.

He had been watching over the vegetables all morning, skipping breakfast. By the time he left for the morning market, it was already past nine. Most of the stalls closed by 10:30, since they catered to breakfast customers and local regulars.

But when he arrived, he noticed something unusual. It was clearly much livelier than usual. He worried there might not be anything left to eat, but surprisingly, every stall was still open.

He asked the tofu shop owner, who he knew well since Jiang Tingzhou was one of the few young customers who got up early for breakfast.

“Ah, Xiao Jiang. They said a video went viral online. I don’t really use the internet, so I don’t know the details. But all these people are coming to the Sugar Factory Garden to check in or whatever. And this is still considered quiet! Wait till the afternoon—it’s packed shoulder to shoulder.”

The fried snack vendor next to them yelled, “Old Liu! Buy a new phone already. That video is Xiao Jiang’s—and he’s the one in it!”

A dim sum shop that used to be quiet was now full of people taking check-in selfies. The tag was “Trash Gets What He Deserves—Beaten Up By a Good Samaritan.”

Jiang Tingzhou: “…”

He hadn’t played with his phone much and didn’t realize how much the outside world had already spiraled to that point.