The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 39

Although it was just a dream, after waking up, every fragment remained so clear, as if it had really happened.

Lu Baiyu couldn’t sleep.

He just felt his nerves twitching painfully, so he got up and took a cold shower. After that, he could clearly distinguish reality from illusion.

Listening to the drizzle outside, he could only think of Jiang Tingzhou and everything about him.

Originally, Lu Baiyu had a lot to say to him that day, but he didn’t get the chance.

He wanted to say that aside from Secretary Song, there were indeed things he hadn’t handled well. That was why the people under him thought he didn’t care about Jiang Tingzhou and acted accordingly. That he had already replaced those people and such situations wouldn’t happen again.

He also wanted to say that Jiang Tingzhou shouldn’t have had to remain silent, never asking anything of him, while he himself took it for granted, neglecting Jiang Tingzhou’s thoughts and needs and focusing only on his work.

Their relationship couldn’t be made public at that point, and even if Secretary Song knew, she wouldn’t have dared to speak of it. Jiang Tingzhou had always kept his grievances to himself, not wanting to make things difficult for him—and Lu Baiyu had taken that for granted.

Even after Jiang Tingzhou left, he didn’t realize there was a problem at first. He continued burying himself in important work, thinking Jiang Tingzhou’s matters could wait a few days. But once the Lu Jiahe incident happened, everything fell apart.

Those problems weren’t all Secretary Song’s fault. The main responsibility was Lu Baiyu’s. He was the one who should be held accountable.

But Jiang Tingzhou no longer wanted to hear any of that.

After returning from the small courtyard that day, Lu Baiyu realized he had never truly thought about their relationship.

He never had to before. Jiang Tingzhou had started liking him long ago. All he had to do was accept it—there was no need to think too much.

But that night, he found himself recalling all kinds of memories, thinking back on how the two of them had spent those past few years.

The relationship between the Lu family and the Jiang family had always been somewhat delicate. From Lu Zhenting’s standpoint, Jiang Tingzhou’s disappearance had already been sufficiently compensated for—there was no need to do anything more. And those compensations had little to do with Jiang Tingzhou himself.

When Jiang Tingzhou was found, Lu Baiyu saw a photo of him: worn-out clothes, scars on his face, a harsh environment. He also heard that his adoptive father died six months earlier from a relapse due to alcoholism.

At such a young age, Jiang Tingzhou had to support himself. If it weren’t for the local neighborhood committee and some volunteers who stepped in—paying for his tuition and organizing a small fundraising campaign to give him a bit of living allowance—he wouldn’t have survived. He’d become self-reliant early, in circumstances where most kids wouldn’t have made it.

Lu Baiyu couldn’t just ignore someone like that.

When he was sixteen, he’d already asked the family to support charitable projects. It became a fixed expense for the Lu Group. He had seen many people in hardship, but something about the photos of Jiang Tingzhou stuck with him—especially those eyes that looked straight up at the camera.

Butcher stalls in open markets were inevitably messy, with blood and water everywhere. Even in photos, one could almost smell the raw meat. And yet, in that grimy environment, Jiang Tingzhou’s eyes remained black, bright, and clean—impossible not to notice.

During the two years when Jiang Tingzhou was in high school, Lu Baiyu had been studying abroad. They didn’t have much actual contact. He just wanted to offer some compensation, so he had the housekeeper send supplies regularly and made arrangements with the private school.

But he wasn’t there in person—Lu Jiahe was. And surprisingly, the two got along terribly.

As the second young master of the Lu family, Lu Jiahe’s presence in real life outweighed anything Lu Baiyu could say from afar. At the time, Baiyu hadn’t yet been confirmed as the official heir of the Lu Group, and his words didn’t carry as much weight as they did now.

Lu Baiyu couldn’t witness Jiang Tingzhou’s life firsthand, but he assumed that a strictly managed private school would be safe and uneventful.

Incidents like the basketball team stealing money seemed like rare events. He arrived in time, Lu Jiahe apologized and promised to behave. Afterward, Lu Baiyu had the butler report more frequently on Jiang Tingzhou and increased his support.

Everything seemed to be improving. Jiang Tingzhou made some friends. Even his relationship with Lu Jiahe eased a bit after a few basketball games. At that rate, reconciliation seemed possible.

But after the incident with Li Shuyan and the security guard, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse—something Baiyu never saw coming.

Still, Lu Baiyu believed he could fix it.

He had worked with countless disadvantaged people during charity projects. Just as he helped others, he could easily extend a hand and pull Jiang Tingzhou from the abyss—transfer him to a better school with just a few connections.

If Jiang Tingzhou wanted to study abroad, Lu Baiyu could donate an entire school building to get him in—as long as he was willing.

But Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t like everyone else.

“I’ve made up my mind. I won’t make the same mistake again,” Jiang Tingzhou said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’ll stand on my own. I have my own path to walk.”

And so, he resolutely went off to learn culinary arts.

And Lu Baiyu couldn’t talk him out of it.

At the time, Baiyu had just joined the company and started managing projects. He did well—so well that even Lu Zhenting took notice. Two years later, it was common knowledge that he was the indisputable heir to the Lu Group.

Many people came to flatter and admire him. With his background and talent, praise came naturally. But things were different for Jiang Tingzhou.

The path of culinary arts was lonelier. No bright spotlight, no applause—just repetitive practice day after day.

But Lu Baiyu knew Jiang Tingzhou had achieved something equally extraordinary.

Most apprentices spent six years under Chef Wang’s rigorous standards before becoming certified. Jiang Tingzhou did it in just two. His knife skills were solid, and he picked up any dish with ease.

By the time he turned nineteen, he completed his apprenticeship and returned. His skills improved, his personality matured, and he became smoother in his interactions—but the way he looked at people remained the same.

Lu Baiyu saw him in a new light too.

Although Jiang Tingzhou didn’t like the Jiang family, it was undeniable that “Gongyan” was a rare and outstanding platform for any chef. Large-scale, high-end Chinese restaurant chains with genuine heritage were few and far between in the country.

Besides, Jiang Tingzhou was the Jiang family’s only son. It was only natural that he would inherit the business after completing his training—there was no reason to hand it off to Jiang You.

Just as Lu Baiyu wanted to be a legitimate heir, so did Jiang Tingzhou.

Even though the Lu Group and the Jiang family’s restaurant business were on vastly different scales—in the public eye, even the most elite chefs couldn’t compare to the CEO of a Fortune Global 500 company—Lu Baiyu no longer saw it that way.

At least, not anymore.

Given time, Jiang Tingzhou would become far more than a chef—he would build something of his own.

Lu Baiyu bought the apartment at Brilliant Star originally just to give Jiang Tingzhou a place to live near work. But eventually, he moved in too. He couldn’t deny it—he simply enjoyed being around Jiang Tingzhou.

With his attention focused on Jiang Tingzhou, it became obvious that Jiang Tingzhou liked him.

To be honest, he noticed years ago.

They spent more and more time together, interacted frequently. He wasn’t stupid—it was obvious.

But he never said anything. He hadn’t yet sorted out his own feelings, hadn’t decided if he wanted to pursue that kind of relationship, so he stayed silent.

But looking back now, after realizing Jiang Tingzhou’s feelings, the fact that he didn’t reject or distance himself—like he did with other admirers—but instead drew closer and closer, said it all.

During that period, he saw Jiang Tingzhou’s affection grow more and more visible, saw the joy in his eyes every time he looked at him, and understood exactly what he felt.

The confession was part of Baiyu’s plan.

He prepared the celebratory wine on the night Jiang Tingzhou won the award.

He knew the wine was smooth and deceptively strong—easy to overdrink without realizing. He knew Jiang Tingzhou could drink, but his tolerance wasn’t great.

The apartment was carefully prepared: the lighting adjusted, incense selected, music playing at just the right volume. Baiyu didn’t need to lift a finger—one word from him, and it was all done.

He didn’t even need to speak. He just had to stand there, wait for a tipsy Jiang Tingzhou to approach, say the words he wanted to hear, and in the end, he’d get the person he wanted.

He thought things would stay that way.

But now, just over a month later, Jiang Tingzhou was gone.

Truth be told, their relationship wasn’t a sudden one. For a year or two before officially becoming a couple, they were already in a gray area. They practically lived together—Baiyu went to the Brilliant Star apartment more often than he went to the Lu family home.

Even after becoming official, their dynamic didn’t change much—just one thin layer of glass between friendship and love had been broken.

When Jiang Tingzhou fell ill and was hospitalized, Baiyu rushed to get people to check on him. By the time they arrived, Jiang Tingzhou was already under medical care. There wasn’t much else to do—he thought he’d make it up to him later.

But when he got back, everything had changed.

At first, Lu Baiyu oversimplified the situation, trapped in his usual assumptions. Now he knew it wasn’t just a tantrum. But that didn’t mean he would give up.

In the first few days after Jiang Tingzhou left, things were okay. They hadn’t seen each other every day anyway. But over time, Baiyu couldn’t bear it anymore. He wasn’t used to this at all.

The reason Jiang Tingzhou left might be complicated—but one thing was certain: Jiang Tingzhou definitely still had feelings for him.

You don’t love someone so deeply, for so long, and just let go. That meant there was still hope. Lu Baiyu thought, pushing down his restlessness, silently telling himself:

He had plenty of ways.

Meanwhile, Jiang Tingzhou’s week was surprisingly peaceful.

When he woke up, the sun was shining again. Aside from the damp traces of rain still visible on the ground, it was hard to believe it had rained at all. All he felt was that he had slept unusually well.

The air was especially fresh that morning. When he went to Aunt Deng’s yard for tea and pastries, he felt thoroughly at ease. Of course, there weren’t just pastries on the table—neighbors who dropped by for tea also brought their own food to share.

Jiang Tingzhou used the free-range chicken given by Master Zhu to make a scallion oil shredded chicken dish. It was a big hit.

The neighbors sat around chatting about all sorts of things, growing more familiar with each other by the minute.

Jiang Tingzhou thought of Aunt Deng from time to time, but besides keeping her yard clean, there wasn’t much else he could think to do.

When An Xiaoping stopped by that Friday, he saw a bunch of cucumbers piled up on the coffee table. Jiang Tingzhou normally didn’t buy that many, but people had been giving them to him.

He headed into the kitchen and found Jiang Tingzhou humming softly as he worked.

Brother seemed to be in a great mood. An Xiaoping thought so with delight.

He grabbed a cucumber, took a bite, and started talking excitedly about something big that had happened to him recently.

“Bro, I’ve got good news—you’ll never guess,” he said. “Remember when you suggested we open an online store? Business is booming!”

He uploaded a new video featuring the various breads and pastries at Yongqing Old Bakery. Some of the pastries had a longer shelf life and could be shipped.

In the comments section of that video, An Xiaoping promoted their store and added a few types of candy from the Yongqing Sugar Factory that he had featured in earlier clips. Viewers could either buy the curated sets he recommended or choose a mixed assortment to try them all.

At first, they thought it was just a small side project—enough to earn an extra one or two thousand yuan per person for daily expenses. They didn’t expect the flood of orders that followed, far beyond anything they prepared for.

“My roommates haven’t even had a weekend off—they’re busy rushing to get everything packed and shipped,” An Xiaoping said. “I came today to see if there are any new items at the sugar factory or bakery I can feature in the next video.”

Jiang Tingzhou praised him a few times, genuinely supportive.

An Xiaoping held his head high, basking in the praise—but Jiang Tingzhou’s ingrained professional instincts kicked in.

Now that the business had taken off, it was time to expand and earn even more.

He had too much experience in this kind of thing. He didn’t even need to think hard—just one glance and he already had a plan.