The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 59

Mayor Lu reached out to take the sandwich and ate it. The others who followed him also took one after another.

Sandwiches were a common food—everyone’d had one before—but this was something else entirely. The hand-ground peanut butter was sweet and rich. The toast was the perfect thickness: soft, not overly sweet, and full of milky flavor. The sauce inside wasn’t greasy, just fragrant. Everything was just right.

Other places they visited were far more advanced than the sugar factory, filled with futuristic equipment that offered a glimpse of what was to come. But standing there, with the sweet aroma lingering in the air and something warm in their hands, they felt grounded.

Besides, combining the sugar factory’s classic products with Zhengyang peanuts to create a delicious, well-balanced product—everyone understood the symbolism behind that.

For the newly appointed Mayor Lu, it was a subtle but undeniably auspicious sign.

Jiang Tingzhou noticed the smile on Mayor Lu’s face and continued, “Mayor Lu, you probably already know the sugar factory hasn’t been doing well in the past. But things are turning around because the new products are becoming popular. We’re not going to just stay inside these walls. The masters and I will take our products further.”

Mayor Lu wasn’t especially invested in the project itself, but since he came, it was a rare opportunity for the sugar factory.

Jiang Tingzhou understood clearly that if Mayor Lu gave his support, the collaborative project with the municipal government would face far fewer roadblocks in the future—no matter who tried to interfere.

“You mentioned the renovation of the Workers’ Auditorium earlier. That’s going to be the first to break ground. This entire project is set for five years,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “This land has been waiting long enough. It takes five years to build a museum—but only five minutes to make a sandwich like this. I believe the sugar factory’s revitalization starts now, not five years later.”

Mayor Lu asked, “So what exactly do you want to do?”

The floor plan of the old sugar factory was laid out on the table. He just walked through the site and formed a rough impression of each section.

“We’ll open the first flagship store in the commercial street—a large workshop for handmade candy and baked goods. It won’t be as fast as assembly lines, but we’ll offer a wide variety, great taste, and frequent product updates. Our old masters will also train apprentices in-store. When a product becomes popular, we’ll scale it at the factory. It’ll form a virtuous cycle.”

This front-store, back-factory model was already common in the food industry. Mayor Lu, now intrigued, gestured for him to continue.

“Alongside the museum, we’re planning to build a parking lot next. The old sugar factory’s football field was already marked for it in the plans. We’ll turn part of it into a multi-level lot to accommodate more cars,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “The cultural and creative park has a large footprint, but the surrounding old city is narrow, and parking’s always been a headache.”

He pointed toward the packed morning market street and the vegetable and wholesale markets nearby. “The sugar factory sits right at the center.”

This situation was natural—everything in the area once revolved around the sugar factory. Markets flourished there, prices were low, and even people from the new city came, partly because they could find parking.

Back in the ’70s and ’80s, no one planned for large parking lots. But now, the opportunity was there.

“If all goes smoothly, the parking lot will be done soon,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Its entrance and exit will be linked to the sugar factory garden.”

In the past, even with a parking lot, no one would’ve come. The area was just a dusty construction site. But now, with the garden’s dense vegetation separating the construction from the living area, and if the flagship store opened alongside the morning market street, the flow of people would follow.

Zooming out, it was all connected.

Mayor Lu smiled, clearly pleased. “Very good. But I thought you were just a chef.”

“I am a chef,” Jiang Tingzhou said with a smile, “and also the project lead for the sugar factory.”

“It’s probably fate. For chefs, sugar is the most essential seasoning. Many of the world’s tastiest dishes need sugar—not just desserts. A pinch of sugar in a stir-fry or stew doesn’t make it sweet—it enhances the flavor. It’s a flavor guide. That’s what makes the sugar factory special. This is Yongqing’s history. Sugar-based foods are a cultural signature of life here.”

All kinds of delicious food were the true cultural and creative ‘merchandise’ of the sugar factory.

Mayor Lu nodded. “When does the project start?”

Li Shuyan, who had been quietly listening, answered promptly, “We’ll begin next Monday, right after signing.”

“Tell the responsible department to move it up,” Mayor Lu said. “Friday morning would be better. I have a meeting in the district, but I can spare an hour. I’ll come for the ribbon-cutting. Any objections?”

Jiang Tingzhou replied, “It would be our honor.”

Everyone could tell that Mayor Lu’s mood clearly lifted during his visit to the sugar factory.

Before, during other visits, the more observant could tell he wasn’t very interested. Lu Baiyu would chime in from time to time to smooth things over—and strangely enough, he also looked for Jiang Tingzhou.

But once they reached the workshop and Jiang began speaking, Lu Baiyu didn’t say another word—he knew it wasn’t necessary anymore.

Even though the visit was a bit sudden, everything was well prepared. In the end, they took a group photo at the medal wall. Jiang Tingzhou invited several of the factory’s master craftsmen to join.

Mayor Lu looked genuinely pleased. When he left, he shook hands with Jiang Tingzhou before getting in the car.

Among the municipal group, only Lu Baiyu didn’t leave with them. He stayed behind and said, “Tingzhou, you were impressive today.”

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t respond directly. He gave him a glance and said simply, “Mm.”

It was clear Lu Baiyu had something to say. Li Shuyan stood nearby, quietly observing.

Li Shuyan told Jiang Tingzhou earlier that Lu Baiyu spoke on their behalf today, but based on everything so far, Jiang didn’t think it was him who notified the municipal government.

“I came to help,” Lu Baiyu stepped closer, his voice low. “Tingzhou, I should’ve—”

Jiang Tingzhou, still in a sour mood, didn’t want to argue. “Come on, let’s eat. The masters were all nervous today. Now that it’s over, we should all relax and have dinner.”

Lu Baiyu looked a little stunned. Before he could say “okay,” he realized Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t inviting just him—he was including him and Li Shuyan both.

Li Shuyan brightened and said cheerfully, “No need to cook again, I’ve already ordered food! Of course we should treat everyone to something good today.”

Jiang Tingzhou smiled slightly.

“Good thing I started that big pot of iron stew before I left.” He wanted to have dinner with everyone that evening. “I’ll ask someone to bring it over—you can all dig in!”

Lu Baiyu wasn’t left hungry.

Everyone from the city hall group got a sandwich, including him. When he received his, he realized immediately it wasn’t the same—it was a specially made peanut butter sandwich with a butter filling instead of the usual kind.

But he was allergic to peanut butter.

Tingzhou still remembered that.

Lu Baiyu couldn’t bring himself to eat the sandwich.

At the time, everyone was focused on Jiang Tingzhou’s speech, and no one paid attention to him. He carefully folded up the wrapping, wrapped it back up, and carefully put it away.

Tingzhou still thought of me, even if just a little—even if it was just a small thing.

That thought alone made Lu Baiyu secretly happy. Even though the evening breeze was a bit chilly, he felt warm inside.

On the other side, as they walked away, Li Shuyan couldn’t help but say, “I didn’t expect him to show up like that. So… Didn’t you two already break up?”

Jiang didn’t keep the details from a few close friends. The first time Li Shuyan heard it, she was shocked—her pupils visibly trembled. Even after knowing the whole story, she still said firmly, “It must be President Lu’s fault.”

How could her good friend Jiang Tingzhou be the one at fault?

She thought it was better that they broke up. After all, Lu Baiyu was someone even the Li family held in high regard. It was hard to imagine that kind of relationship ending well.

But now, his behavior toward Tingzhou felt strange.

It seemed like he wanted to get back together, but was afraid Jiang Tingzhou would be angry and things would turn ugly. He was bold yet hesitant, like someone trying to let go but unwilling to do so.

When Lu Baiyu put the sandwich away, someone from city hall saw it. Standing beside Jiang, Li Shuyan noticed too—and realized his sandwich was different from the rest.

“You saw him show up and texted me. I had the chef make a different one. He’s allergic to peanuts—he can’t eat that.”

Jiang Tingzhou always had a good memory. He sighed. “I can’t just not give him one, right? Wouldn’t that seem strange? Or should I give him peanut butter on purpose, they might insist he eat it, and then he’d have an allergic reaction right there on the spot. That would ruin the whole scene. And who would that reflect badly on? The sugar factory.”

There was no need to play games with people over something so small—especially on an occasion like this.

When he heard Li Shuyan’s comment about Lu Baiyu’s actions, Jiang Tingzhou sighed again, but didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. After all, it was just a sandwich.

“Forget it. You made Mayor Lu happy with just a sandwich,” Li Shuyan said. “But when you gave it to him, I saw you were nervous. Were you afraid he wouldn’t like it?”

Jiang Tingzhou’s understanding of Mayor Lu wasn’t just superficial. In his previous life, they had few direct interactions, but he studied the man.

Mayor Lu was promoted a few years later, eventually becoming a vice-provincial governor. Jiang Tingzhou understood his temperament and personality very well. In fact, he did his homework on almost all of the local key figures—it was basic survival knowledge for any entrepreneur.

“He wasn’t moved just by a sandwich,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “What he really wanted to see was the substance behind it.”

For someone like Mayor Lu, the funding for the project was just one part of the picture. Li Shuyan didn’t have any real title, but she had a powerful family behind her, and she was the only daughter. Today, she personally received the group and gave a thorough introduction, but anyone with experience could tell she was just a figurehead. Still, she was clearly being supported.

When Mayor Lu saw that, he got the picture. He understood the risks, but more importantly, he noticed, approved, and became interested.

“At his level, what he cares about is money, planning, social impact—and above all, time.”

Li Shuyan understood the parts about planning and social effect. The sugar factory was a historic site, and Jiang Tingzhou’s planning was meticulous. His emphasis on handcrafting wasn’t just about tradition—she understood the hidden message: employment.

The sugar factory’s revival wasn’t about replacing people with machines. It was rooted in human labor.

Now that the business proved itself and the flavors impressed Mayor Lu, it was clear the factory would expand.

And a large factory focused on manual production could employ a great number of people. If things went well, it could even become an industrial cluster.

But she didn’t quite understand what he meant by “time.”

“We have to move fast. The Sugar Factory Museum has strict preservation requirements, and all the equipment placement needs to be historically accurate. The timeline is longer than building a high-rise. Your construction team is already top-tier, but the fastest they can do it is just over four years. According to the municipal evaluation, the full deadline is five years,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “But Mayor Lu’s term is only five years.”

In other words, if anything went wrong during construction, he would be the one held responsible. Once the project was completed, he would leave Yongqing, and the success would belong to whoever came next.

“That’s why he needs to push this quickly—spend money to accelerate other projects. This kind of preservation work is delicate, but it has to be rushed,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “He needs results so he can do other things.”

That peanut butter sandwich didn’t do all the work. At most, it made Mayor Lu happy.

But that’s the thing—people cared about different things, but human nature was the same. Eating a favorite hometown food brought a natural sense of joy… that was real.

Only then did Jiang get the opportunity to speak.

And it wasn’t just to win over the mayor.

All of this, I really want to do it myself.