The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 42

Lu Baiyu felt as heavy as a stone.

As a member of the Lu family, he had received professional training to prevent incidents like kidnapping. In that regard, Lu Jiahe was no match for him. In terms of physical strength, Jiang Tingzhou might not even have had the upper hand.

With that kind of physical condition, it wasn’t hard for Young Master Lu to push himself into a fever.

Jiang Tingzhou had been in a fairly good mood that day. He had had an enjoyable afternoon and didn’t want to let any of that be affected, so when he spoke to Lu Baiyu, he wasn’t angry—just calm.

“You’ve seen me. You can leave now,” he said.

An Xiaoping had been exhausted from editing the video that evening. He had posted it right after finishing and had already gone to sleep. Jiang Tingzhou didn’t want to make noise and wake him up.

Lu Baiyu said, “Tingzhou, I have something to say to you.”

Jiang Tingzhou replied, “You’re getting more and more demanding.”

“I’ll give you anything you want— Just don’t ignore me.”

“Pretending again.”

That kind of scene from Lu Baiyu wasn’t new to Jiang Tingzhou anymore—he was experienced at handling it now.

—That person really did know how to apologize. He acted like he was willing to give everything, even bowed his head meekly. No matter how valuable the gift, he would offer it with both hands. Add to that a visible illness, and he’d easily earn pity, make people feel sorry for him, and question if they were being too harsh. After all, they had been in a relationship for so long—it hadn’t been easy to reach that point. Was it really okay to just walk away?

But Jiang Tingzhou had experienced it. He knew that kind of act wasn’t necessarily sincere. Young Master Lu was skilled at staging those scenes and saying those lines. The script might change slightly, but the story stayed the same. He was a whole different generation.

Lu Baiyu replied quietly, “I’m not pretending.”

There was a faint smell of blood on him. It wasn’t just a cold—he seemed to be running a fever from an injury.

“Car accident, just now,” he said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Jiang Tingzhou’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder, as if finally letting go. “Tingzhou, I just came from the hospital.”

That time, he wasn’t lying.

The car had come at him suddenly that evening. Lu Baiyu’s bodyguards had been well-trained and managed to dodge it. Though they narrowly avoided a direct crash, they still shielded him when the impact came.

The driver had been more seriously injured but wasn’t in critical condition. He had already been taken to the hospital. Lu Baiyu had sustained a scratch on his back. After getting it bandaged and treated, he had developed a low-grade fever.

The other driver had been sent to the police station. He insisted he had simply been driving under the influence. The Lu Group was a listed company—incidents like that drew attention. Though that kind of thing had been new to Lu Baiyu, he could more or less guess who had been behind it.

In business, some people resorted to those underhanded tactics when desperate. Still, in some ways, Lu Baiyu had gotten what he wanted. After treatment, he came straight there.

All his efforts before had failed, but then, with a fever from the back injury, he finally had an excuse to appear at Jiang Tingzhou’s door.

“I missed you so much,” Lu Baiyu murmured, his voice dropping lower as he leaned close to Jiang Tingzhou’s ear. “Tingzhou, when the car hit us, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

He had meant those words.

Even though it had been his first time facing such a close call, when the car came flying toward him, the only person he had thought of was Jiang Tingzhou.

He had gotten too used to the other’s presence—so much so that he had taken it for granted. Then, he wanted to take that chance to say everything he’d been holding in. Even if Jiang Tingzhou didn’t come back, even if it only softened his attitude a little, it would be worth it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t do well before. Can you give me another chance?”

He had planned a few things before coming there, but once he held Jiang Tingzhou in his arms, the words flowed naturally—they didn’t need to be rehearsed.

He held him gently. Jiang Tingzhou was in pajamas—warm and soft. There had been a sweet scent on him, like a small piece of bread.

It had been a long time since Lu Baiyu had held someone like that. How could he possibly bear to let go now?

But Jiang Tingzhou chuckled a few seconds later.

“I honestly can’t tell anymore which of Young Master Lu’s words are true and which are lies,” he said. “But what does that have to do with me? It’s not like I was the one who hit you with a car.”

Lu Baiyu held him tighter. “Tingzhou, we’re lovers, of course I—”

“Really?” Jiang Tingzhou shook his head. “I don’t think you ever truly had feelings for me. Don’t lie to yourself into believing it.”

He wouldn’t believe such words again.

He’d said it before. Maybe Lu Baiyu hadn’t understood then, but he did now.

“Tingzhou, I like you,” Lu Baiyu said. “I’ve liked you for a long time—since the economic and trade summit.”

He had fallen for him two years ago. He had known even then.

Jiang Tingzhou was slightly stunned when he heard that. He knew exactly what Lu Baiyu had been referring to.

Two years ago, both of them had just started getting involved in their respective family businesses. That had been when the obstacles first began—especially for Lu Baiyu. The logistics industry’s price war two years ago had been the most difficult period for the Lu Group.

Jiang Tingzhou had been living with him at Brilliant Star then. He had witnessed Lu Baiyu’s anxiety.

The online shopping boom had crowded the industry. Smaller or outdated players had been bound to be eliminated. Price wars—often selling at a loss—had become the norm. At the time, Suda had been aggressively trying to dominate the southern market, squeezing Lu Group’s territory.

Other companies had existed, but they had trailed behind Suda and Lu Group.

It had been a bloody battle between two mortal enemies. At one point, several of Lu Group’s cargo trucks had overturned under suspicious circumstances. Drivers had been badly injured. The headlines had exploded, adding enormous pressure.

Lu Group had been in the middle of a massive tech and logistics network upgrade, burning through funds. But with external attacks and internal debt, their position had grown weaker. The market blow had come swiftly and relentlessly—exactly where Lu Group had been vulnerable.

Forced to act, the company had considered burning cash to follow Suda’s price war. Even Lu Zhenting had hesitated, but Lu Baiyu, who had just joined the board, had firmly opposed it.

He had insisted the Lu Group must not follow the low-price path, calling it a dead end. He had been resolute.

And he had been right.

That year, at the economic and trade conference, Lu Baiyu had replaced Lu Zhenting as Lu Group’s representative at the Supply Chain Summit. With Suda waiting to make the final kill, the speech had been crucial.

The summit had been held in Dongjiang Province, a major event of the five-year trade fair. It hadn’t just been for show—it had been real business.

A perfect platform for exposure, especially for logistics. The entire audience consisted of industry partners. CCTV and Dongjiang TV had aired it live during prime time. The turnout had been massive.

Suda’s chairman, Zheng Zexing, had taken the stage himself to present their newest model. He had spoken in great detail—from B2B to B2C, from SCM to WMS—and had emphasized their logistical innovations. But at its core, his pitch had been low pricing, ending with the slogan: “Same service, lower price.”

It had been no joke. During that time, Suda had slashed rates for basic services to 70% or even lower than Lu Group’s. They had been playing hard.

Other companies had followed suit. Most of the speeches had focused on price cuts, hoping to gain market share by any means.

Logistics couldn’t be compared to physical goods—you couldn’t easily showcase your quality by placing a “sample” on the table. And merchants, by nature, chased profit. In the face of lower prices, Lu Group’s investment in technology and quality assurance had seemed meaningless—customers only cared about cost.

So, how do you present those?

That had been Lu Group’s biggest challenge. They couldn’t demonstrate their advantages easily. The only card they had held was being the last speaker—an advantage granted by their local status in Dongjiang.

They had already known Suda’s talking points. Lu Zhenting had personally revised the speech several times to prepare.

But just three days before the event, Lu Baiyu had made the decision to scrap the entire speech and start over—rewriting everything.

For a major summit like that, preparations typically took a month. His decision had been risky and had left many people baffled.

Why had Lu Baiyu done it?

Only Jiang Tingzhou knew.

Because three nights before the summit, while Lu Baiyu had sat in frustration, frowning at his notes, Jiang Tingzhou had brought him a dish.

“You haven’t eaten all day. It’s already nine o’clock. You won’t last like this,” he said. “Come eat something.”

Lu Baiyu had no appetite, but the dish in front of him had smelled delicious—and Jiang Tingzhou had already handed him a spoon.

He couldn’t refuse Jiang Tingzhou, especially not when he had seen those smiling eyes. So, he had reluctantly set aside his work.

The dish had been served in a special stone bowl, still sizzling with steam. At first glance, it looked like tofu. But when he scooped into it, the color had been light green. He had taken a bite and realized it had been made with wild vegetables.

It had been wild herb tofu.

Jiang Tingzhou said, “I’m planning to launch a new dish in the restaurant. I want to call it Yongqing Tofu.”

Lu Baiyu asked why he’d chosen that name.

Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “There’s a story behind it.”

Although he didn’t finish high school, he never stopped learning. Whatever industry he worked in, he refused to stay stagnant. Sometimes, while cooking, he read old texts and explored traditional recipes—giving new dishes meaningful names.

That tofu was one such experiment.

He told Lu Baiyu the origin of the dish—he found it in a local chronicle.

Yongqing was originally called Xiaoying, just a run-down little town with the Baiying River winding through it. The capital nearby was called Shangying. Xiaoying was a casual, almost throwaway name.

Why was it renamed Yongqing? The local records explained.

Hundreds of years ago, a disgraced official was demoted and sent there. He felt constantly irritable and uneasy. One summer day, while traveling for work, he got lost in the mountains. The weather was hot, the workload heavy, and his mood hit rock bottom. Just when he was about to collapse from hunger and frustration, he met an old farmer.

The old man could tell he was an official but still offered him a humble lunch. In the bowl was a kind of tofu that looked different. He picked it up with chopsticks, dipped it in a bit of sauce, and was struck by the aroma of beans mixed with the light fragrance of wild vegetables.

The once-proud official finished the whole bowl. His fatigue vanished. He looked up at the hills ahead—lush and green, stretching endlessly. His mood lifted. Life didn’t seem so bitter anymore. Later, he renamed the place Yongqing, meaning “eternal freshness and peace.”

Jiang Tingzhou came across a wild mountain vegetable unique to Yongqing and used it to recreate that dish. He refined the process to eliminate the bitterness and astringency of the wild herb, ground soybeans using a small stone mill, then pan-fried the tofu until the outside was crisp. Finally, he poured over a specially seasoned sauce.

One bite—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside. The unique scent of the wild vegetable lingered, and the savory sauce brought a subtle meaty aroma. The flavors blended perfectly.

It was delicious.

Though Lu Baiyu didn’t mean to eat, he ended up finishing the whole thing.

At the time, Jiang Tingzhou faced setbacks at work. Manager Yang opposed the dish, claiming wild herb tofu wasn’t refined enough for the restaurant’s high-end “palace banquet” theme.

Lu Baiyu frowned. “I’ll go talk to someone right now—”

“Oh, don’t bother. It’s a small thing,” Jiang Tingzhou said, resting his chin on the table and smiling at him. “If I have to rely on you for every little hurdle, what good am I?”

He said it casually, but Lu Baiyu couldn’t bring himself to just ignore it.

“Just focus on your own work,” he said. “I’ll have someone talk to the Gongyan’s old clients. Once it appears on the tasting menu and guests like it, no one will say a thing. This dish of yours…”

He paused mid-sentence.

“Tingzhou, tell this story,” he said. “Tell your guests. I will.… tell it to mine too.”

He didn’t need to explain further. Jiang Tingzhou understood right away.

Even if they worked in different areas, their instincts when facing a problem were the same. Managing a company was like cooking a small dish—business no different.

It was at that moment that Lu Baiyu stopped seeing him as just another person.

On the first day of the Economic and Trade Fair, the Lu Group didn’t use its presentation time to showcase high-tech equipment or imported machines like the other companies.

Instead, the large display screen showed an old, broken ship—weathered, rotting, nearly falling apart.

That same ship now sat in the center of the Lu Group’s exhibition hall. It was transported there just two days prior. The contrast between the ancient vessel and the clean, modern showroom was stark—and impossible to ignore.

As Lu Baiyu stepped onto the stage, the spotlight fell on him.

“Today,” he said, “I want to introduce Lu Group to you—starting with the name. It may sound like it refers to land transport, but in fact, the Lu family started in shipping.”

Viewership numbers showed that the moment Lu Baiyu stepped on stage, ratings began to climb.

He was, objectively, very handsome. His facial features were perfect, and his every movement reflected the polished elegance of an heir raised by a wealthy family. And customers were clearly happy to pay attention to a good-looking CEO.

“My great-grandfather was dirt poor,” Lu Baiyu continued. “He had to beg his uncles and cousins for money. Eventually, he scraped enough together to buy a boat and started a business along the coast of Dongjiang Province. At the time, they didn’t call it logistics—they called it a courier or an escort service. He ran a water escort. The world was chaotic back then, and business was easy to find. Many teams competed—big and small. My great-grandfather wasn’t the cheapest, nor the most powerful, but his business kept growing because he followed a single rule: no matter what, even if knives were falling from the sky, the goods must arrive safely, in one piece.”