The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 52

After discovering that even her number was blocked, Jiang Moli’s heart sank. The atmosphere in the Jiang household grew even more suffocating.

She turned around and looked at the chaotic ward, a dull ache spreading through her body.

How did things come to this?

Most of Jiang You’s so-called wealthy and powerful connections only acknowledged him because of his association with Lu Jiahe. Now that Lu Jiahe’s stance changed, the Jiang family’s position became increasingly precarious.

Father Jiang was especially useless at a time like this. He had no strength to hold things together and only knew how to panic. He rushed into the hospital ward, yelling frantically until Jiang You finally picked up the bedside lamp and threw it at him, silencing the outburst.

Clutching his bleeding forehead, Jiang Yisheng stared in disbelief. “I’m your father! Jiang You, how dare you act like this after all the trouble you’ve caused?”

“My father?” Jiang You laughed coldly. “My real father is a murderer. He’s still in prison. Want me to arrange a visit?”

He was old enough to remember when he was adopted.

Jiang Yisheng was shaken by his words, and even Jiang Moli looked at her son as if seeing him for the first time.

“You still dare talk to me like that? Who do you think I did all this for? I did it for this family!” Jiang You shouted, then hurled a cup across the room. “What else do you all have to rely on but me?” Jiang You smashed everything within reach. Then he paused, lowered his head in thought, and muttered, “Deputy Director Sun’s comment hasn’t been deleted.”

Father Jiang paled. “Are you insane? That’s bait!”

But the identity of the director was real, and so was the fact that he contacted Jiang You. Even if the A Bite of China project turned out to be a scam, Jiang You already stepped into the trap—and now he had no choice but to try and salvage something from it.

This was an opportunity far too important to give up.

In the hospital, Jiang You filmed a video. His face was pale, his demeanor pitiful. He took advantage of the Lu family’s recent clarification to present himself as a victim, shouldering the blame himself.

“It’s all my fault,” he said as tears welled up. “I was young and foolish, tricked by people with bad intentions. Someone got jealous of me and dragged others into it. I’m truly sorry.”

With nowhere else to turn, he also released a chat log with Deputy Director Sun. There was no explicit invitation to a bar, but it was clear the two interacted pleasantly—something the A Bite of China production team couldn’t completely deny.

“The show really did reach out to me,” Jiang You claimed. “Some people just couldn’t accept that. I know I’m young, but I’ve worked hard in culinary arts. It’s always been my dream to be on A Bite of China. I didn’t expect this kind of attack. But no matter what happens, I won’t give up. I will keep chasing my dream.”

Not everyone believed him, but support from fans helped far more than going silent. Jiang You didn’t need to actually appear on A Bite of China—he just needed the crew to visit. If even that happened once, he could twist the narrative, say it was all real, and claim the title of “A Bite of China Candidate.” That alone could help him weather the storm.

Of course, Jiang You didn’t stop there.

With the expansion of Gongyan and Xiangyun Peninsula still underway, the Jiang family desperately needed funds, and Jiang You even more so. He already burned through a fortune hiring water armies.

So he made another private call.

“Don’t hang up,” Jiang You said in a low voice. “I’m just passing on a message. Jiang Tingzhou’s been very active at the sugar factory lately, and Li Shuyan’s set on taking over the project. They’re about to sign a contract. The two of them are getting closer—aren’t you afraid that incident from back then will come to light? Are you really going to let them continue like this? Sure, Jiang Tingzhou didn’t know anything at the time—but I did, Mr. Jang.”

Meanwhile, online discussions about A Bite of China raged on. Rumors flew that the production team would be visiting Yongqing. Excitement built.

“Will Director Cheng actually come to Yongqing?”

“What’s the local specialty here?”

“If we’re talking about culinary tradition, the Jiang family’s Gongyan is probably top-tier.”

Anyone who heard this had something to say.

That day, Jiang Tingzhou visited the bakery to taste new products. Manager Mo invited him. Standing beside him was Li Shuyan, who muttered, “What’s Jiang You trying to pull now? You should be the one stepping up to the stage.”

Her presence made sense—the sugar factory project went through the bidding process, and she was set to take over. After seeing the results brought by Jiang Tingzhou at both the sugar factory and the bakery, she became even more determined. She already pulled funds from the school district housing project under Jang Li’s name. Once the money was in place, signing with the municipal government was only a matter of time.

Although Li Shuyan was the incoming project lead and Manager Mo the longtime bakery head, Jiang Tingzhou still sat at the head of the table. Neither of them found that strange.

Manager Mo nodded in agreement. “I also think it should be Boss Jiang who takes charge.”

Jiang Tingzhou leaned back and said only one thing: “It collapsed.”

“Yes, yes,” Li Shuyan said quickly, “Jiang You’s house totally collapsed. He brought it on himself. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t fix it now.”

“I meant the brown sugar-filled buns we just baked. It collapsed,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “The bottom heat wasn’t enough. Adjust the oven settings again.”

The head baker nodded quickly and rushed off to make the fix.

Recently, the sugar factory reopened its brown sugar production line, and sales of small buns soared again. The bakery scrambled to keep up, modifying production lines and launching new products as fast as possible.

Aside from the crispy bread, the factory’s most common product was always buns.

Now, with new ingredients, even the plain buns were delicious. Jiang Tingzhou suggested adding a twist—brown sugar mochi walnut buns, a super-sized version of his favorite brown sugar crispy bread.

The chefs were experienced with fillings like red bean and meat floss, but this particular filling was tricky and didn’t turn out right after multiple attempts. So they called in Jiang Tingzhou.

As expected, things improved immediately. He not only adjusted the filling but also fine-tuned the oven temperature until they got the perfect taste.

“Collapsed?” Li Shuyan took a bite. “It tastes fine to me. I bet this would sell like crazy if we put it up for sale online.”

The bakery was doing so well that they even started hiring new staff. The sugar factory workers were also busy. However, the factory produced more brown sugar than the bakery needed.

The sugar factory recently made a batch of brown sugar ginger soft candy. Li Shuyan tried it and found it to be the traditional type—solid ingredients, authentic flavor—but a bit heavy. Eating too much made her feel uncomfortable. Taste-wise, it wasn’t much different from similar products on the market.

They tried adjusting the formula multiple times, but the ginger juice was too overpowering. The taste was hard to balance. Many people didn’t like ginger—it felt too hot, especially in large amounts. The brown sugar they used was quite sweet, but unlike in bread, where it could be balanced with dough, candy had to rely on sugar alone to maintain flavor. If they reduced the sugar, the ginger dominated. No matter how they tweaked it, the taste remained either too strong or too sweet.

The ingredients were excellent, of course. If placed in front of someone, they’d eat it. But after tasting Jiang Tingzhou’s adjustments, Li Shuyan felt it just wasn’t good enough.

With such high-quality brown sugar, she wasn’t willing to settle for a mediocre product—but neither she nor the factory found a solution.

After finishing the buns, she was just about to ask Jiang Tingzhou for help when he, still adjusting the bread, simply said, “Got it.”

He looked like he was ready to leave.

“Wait a second,” Li Shuyan caught up and said seriously, “Tingzhou, I’m not asking you to work for free.”

Jiang Tingzhou glanced at her. “I wasn’t working for free in the first place.”

An Xiaoping was now the sugar factory’s exclusive online distributor. He started a new account, and fans were eagerly waiting for product updates.

“No, Xiaoping is Xiaoping, and you’re you,” Li Shuyan emphasized. “I’ve heard about what happened with Sister Zhou. I’ll give you 10%—ten percent of the sugar factory. I’m serious. You can be our senior consultant. No obligations, no need to report to work.”

The bakery was originally a part of the sugar factory anyway.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t answer directly. He just smiled and said, “I’ve got something to do this afternoon. ”

Li Shuyan grew anxious. She was afraid he’d say no. She followed him out, saying more, mentioning that the sugar factory couldn’t afford to fall into anyone else’s hands. She was clearly worried, but she never actually tried to stop him from leaving.

It was drizzling outside. Jiang Tingzhou didn’t bring an umbrella. He just pulled up the hood of his jacket. Li Shuyan wanted to hand him one but said nothing more about the sugar factory. She was more worried he’d catch a cold.

But Jiang Tingzhou shook his head and said, “No need. I’m planning to plant some fruit trees in the yard.”

Li Shuyan was confused. “Why?”

“I’ve been searching for the right ones for a while,” he said. “A neighbor of mine has a few. I stopped by, and he gave me a bag of plums. Said they ripen early—should hit the market soon.” Jiang Tingzhou pulled a small bag of plums from his pocket and handed it to her. “Try one.”

Li Shuyan was about to say she didn’t eat plums, but when she opened the bag, she realized there was sugar inside too.

“Brown sugar… plum candy?”

Unlike the usual brown sugar plum candy found in other factories—often hardened with flour—Jiang Tingzhou adjusted the recipe. He not only changed the flavor of the hard candy but turned it into a soft one.

Li Shuyan couldn’t tell how he did it. The brown sugar wrapped around thick plum flesh, and the candy was soft, almost syrupy in the center. The usual overwhelming sweetness of brown sugar was perfectly offset by the tartness of the plum. The balance of sweet and sour made it incredibly addictive.

She was stunned. “How did you make this?”

“Didn’t fans say they wanted nostalgia?” Jiang Tingzhou replied. “The honey-crusted bread is nostalgic—this is, too. I used to eat brown sugar plum candy as a kid.”

The sugar he used just came from the factory, and he was the first to receive it. Even though he didn’t livestream lately, he still read fan comments.

Li Shuyan said, “I’ve never tasted anything like this before.”

“I’ll go teach the factory staff tomorrow,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “It’s not that hard. Brown sugar’s great for making candied plums.”

He tucked the bag of candy back into his pocket. It was originally meant for Li Shuyan.

Then he checked the time. He really needed to go—it was getting late, and he still had to pick someone up.

He already lit the earthen stove before leaving the house.

This guest seemed important. Jiang Tingzhou was planning to cook a big dish. He preheated the stove with firewood in advance. That day’s firewood was special—lychee wood, which gave off a faint fruity scent when burned.

The goose he ordered was well-fed, much better than when it first arrived by express delivery. Its spirit improved, but its temperament didn’t. It still tried to peck him every chance it got—though never successfully. Now that it was in good condition, it looked alert and even more aggressive.

But this goose would never get the chance again.

The old market provided door-to-door slaughtering and plucking services. The butcher Jiang Tingzhou hired was efficient and clean. The fierce goose was dealt with in seconds, and its feathers were plucked perfectly.

“I’ll leave the sugar factory project book on your living room table. Read it carefully!” Li Shuyan called after him. “I can even raise the offer to more than 10%!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Jiang Tingzhou! You’re a culinary genius! You’re the biggest highlight of Yongqing! You have to be featured on A Bite of China! If you’re not, Cheng Shifei must be out of his mind!”

People on the street turned to look. Jiang Tingzhou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He turned around and waved, gesturing for her to head back inside.

That day was the day the A Bite of China crew arrived in Yongqing.

The Lu family had people waiting to receive them, and several reporters were already gathered at the airport.

There were sixteen people in the film crew, and the leader was clearly Cheng Shifei—the project’s chief planner and director.

Cheng Shifei’s background was legendary. He wasn’t professionally trained. Back in the first season, he was just another unknown sitting on the benches of CCTV. He got noticed because of his camera skills, but he was too young, and no one took him seriously. So he gathered his own team and started producing A Bite of China. When funding fell through, he even mortgaged his house to keep going.

He was the soul of A Bite of China, a quiet but determined leader. Most of the time, he was easygoing, but when it came to his principles, he wouldn’t budge—even if it meant clashing with station leadership.

By now, A Bite of China was a well-funded production. The crew included three assistant directors, and its internal dynamics were complex. Everyone had their own agenda.

But Cheng Shifei remained the team’s anchor—calm, steady, and unshakable.

Before the crew even arrived, reporters already crowded the airport, waiting for the story to begin.