The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 68

Li Shuyan reacted the fastest. She clapped her hands and said happily, “Great! I think Deng’s pastries are very suitable—this is a fantastic discovery!”

Wen Qi was stunned. 

Li Xu was surprised for a moment, then became excited. “Did Director Cheng finally find what he wanted to film in Yongqing?”

Even if A Bite of China wasn’t coming for commercial purposes, the idea alone was thrilling.

Jiang Tingzhou said, “He’s filming right now and hasn’t replied to my message. If you’re free, let’s go together. Mr. Wen, how about you?”

After arriving, Wen Qi had spent time reading through materials and finished the bowl of soup. It was almost the full hour he had originally mentioned.  From here to Morning Market Street, it was more than a ten-minute walk.

Wen Qi put away the sugar factory project book and said, “Of course.”

He was currently quite free—and very interested.

Anyone who hears about A Bite of China would pay attention. Besides, he was a Yongqing local and naturally wanted to know what kind of food could represent Yongqing.

As the group set off, Lu Baiyu naturally walked beside Jiang Tingzhou.

He didn’t say anything along the way, merely stepping in to invite Wen Qi. 

While Jiang Tingzhou was persuading Wen Qi, he listened carefully, never interrupting or trying to guide the conversation. When he realized this was something Jiang Tingzhou truly wanted to pursue, and heard his deeper thoughts about revitalizing the sugar factory, he was genuinely moved.

“Young Master Lu, you should realize now that I won’t go to Lu Group. What the two of us want to do is completely different,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “I’ll stay here. So, honestly, you don’t have to…”

He was walking a different path now, surrounded by different people. There was no turning back.

Jiang Tingzhou wanted to say Lu Baiyu didn’t need to put his energy into him anymore, but Lu Baiyu only shook his head.

“I know, Tingzhou. I’m happy for you.”

He meant it.

He had noticed the light in Jiang Tingzhou’s eyes when he spoke. How could he not be happy?

Lu Baiyu had already accepted that things wouldn’t go back to how they were. Thinking about it still hurt—this feeling that had been worn thin now seemed to have no hope.

But even if they couldn’t be lovers anymore, just being like this—by his side—brought him peace.

Beyond the “big” things like the sugar factory project, there were “small” things he had quietly discovered while sitting nearby—like how much Jiang Tingzhou loved taro paste.

To Lu Baiyu, this meant something.

It was enough to witness these things now. Why not start again from here? Even if they were no longer close, he could take a few steps back and do things slowly. There was no rush.

Jiang Tingzhou: “…”

He had nothing to say about Lu Baiyu’s attitude. He had already rejected him many times, and while Lu Baiyu seemed to hear it, he also seemed not to.

Wen Qi and Li Xu didn’t notice their conversation. They were busy searching for information about the sugar factory pastries on their phones—but found very little.

Naturally so. The Yongqing Sugar Factory only had one small storefront on Morning Market Street in the old town, and its customers were mostly elderly locals. These customers didn’t go online much and rarely gave glowing reviews. Most people hadn’t even heard of it, let alone considered it worthy of A Bite of China.

Jiang Tingzhou and Li Shuyan had only eaten there thanks to An Xiaoping. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have known about it either.

Li Xu couldn’t help but ask, “Is it really that good?”

“It’s very delicious. If you don’t believe me, go try it.” Li Shuyan remembered the pastries fondly and spoke with some excitement. “Tingzhou praised it. Oh, and Director Cheng tried it too—he liked it.”

Cheng Shifei had indeed eaten it.

On his first day in Yongqing, a neighbor from Jiang Tingzhou’s courtyard gave him a piece of the shop’s signature ham-filled pastry. He found it surprisingly good. The crust was crispy—very different from other pastries he’d had. It was definitely a delicacy. But since ham isn’t a local specialty, he hadn’t thought more of it.

And yet, that was exactly what made it a Yongqing specialty.

Yongqing pastries never stuck to one type of filling. They originated from the sugar factory’s workers’ canteen. Back then, workers from all over the country brought different tastes—and that diversity gave birth to this style of pastry.

Now the shop was rooted in the old town, still carrying the name “Sugar Factory.” It could be considered a time-honored brand.

Just a few years ago, Yongqing was still dotted with farmlands and fishing villages. But thanks to opening-up policies and its unique location, it rapidly developed. People from all over came here to work, became part of the city. The sweat of hard labor mixed into the soil—nurturing a new Yongqing.

These days, with prosperity came expensive ingredients and fancy cuisine. But openness, cooperation, and bold creativity were still Yongqing’s essence.

The sugar factory had once been Yongqing’s original industry—a key part of its industrialization. Though it had declined, its legacy remained, etched in both the city and the whole of Dongjiang Province.

Just like the old slogan still hanging on the wall in Deng’s Cake Shop: “Unite strength, create brilliance.”

If any food could represent Yongqing, it would be this richly filled, multi-flavored shortbread—a true fusion of tastes and cultures. An edible symbol of Yongqing itself.

By now, Jiang Tingzhou and the others had arrived. Even if they couldn’t get into the store yet, the aroma of freshly baked shortbread drifted out. The first thing visible inside was the aged, red slogan of the sugar factory and a clean price board. Prices ranged from 1.5 to 8 yuan.

The classic sesame and sugar filling remained at 1.5 yuan—unchanged. The most expensive meat-filled ones were just 8 yuan: generous portions, good quality, great value. Everything was handmade with carefully selected ingredients, made and sold fresh on-site. The shop had held onto this approach for years.

The place might look old, but it was neat and spotless. Master Deng stood at the door kneading dough. Pastries of all kinds were arranged in rows, neatly categorized. It felt like stepping into the past.

Not only Cheng Shifei, but anyone who visited could feel the magic of A Bite of China.

Jiang Tingzhou waited until Cheng Shifei finished filming before greeting him.

Shots of steaming ovens and golden pastries were especially tempting. Once broken open, the fillings steamed and released rich aromas—each type uniquely enticing.

Master Deng had spent a lifetime perfecting his pastry crusts. The oven was specially customized, allowing grease to drain and leaving the pastry crisp but not oily. The crusts were adjusted according to the fillings. The process was already highly refined.

During filming, many customers came in and out. None of them knew they were being filmed for A Bite of China. They were simply living their ordinary lives—now immortalized on camera.

“Senior Brother,” Jiang Tingzhou called out during a break in filming. “Are you satisfied with this place?”

Cheng Shifei smiled and gave him a thumbs-up—everyone understood what that meant.

Wen Qi stood by and watched. He already had an idea. A shop featured on A Bite of China wouldn’t stay local—it would be known across the country.

At that moment, Aunt Deng had just returned. She hadn’t expected that after a lifetime of baking pastries, a golden opportunity would fall into her lap.

“Xiao Jiang, Director Cheng came because of you, right? Why us?” She was overwhelmed. “He’s such a great chef. How could our little shop be chosen? You’re the one who’s won awards and makes amazing dishes—you should be on TV. We just make simple pastries. Isn’t this all a mistake?”

Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “Why not?”

Aunt Deng still looked worried. “But what about you? Director Cheng clearly wants to feature you. You’re young, talented—you deserve this opportunity.”

“No. I’m not the right fit for A Bite of China,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “But your Yongqing pastries are.”

He believed that many people wouldn’t be disappointed after tasting them.

This shop had always been close by, but Jiang Tingzhou hadn’t really thought much of it before. He’d focused too much on himself and dismissed Yongqing tofu as unfit for the show. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to influence the production—he simply hadn’t thought deeply enough. But when he heard his senior brother still hadn’t found the right subject, everything clicked.

At the sugar factory, new ideas surfaced. That’s when he remembered the Deng family.

And in that moment, he seemed to understand something:

Food doesn’t need to be explained—you understand it when you taste it.

The freshly baked shortbread had cooled slightly. Jiang Tingzhou handed some to Li Xu and Wen Qi. 

After tasting it, both nodded.

“It’s really good,” Wen Qi, a known foodie, said in surprise. “Why wasn’t it famous before?”

Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “Few people knew about it. But now that it’s on A Bite of China, it will be.”

The morning market was bustling. Cheng Shifei hadn’t cleared the area on purpose—he wanted scenes full of real life.

As more people gathered, Jiang Tingzhou stood out as the youngest among the old customers. Not far away, steam billowed from the steamer, sunlight poured down, and he naturally became the centerpiece of this vibrant scene.

Cheng Shifei was a master at filming food and people.

Jiang Tingzhou assumed the cameras weren’t on him—the main lens was focused on the shortbread oven. He was casually talking to Wen Qi, then to Master Deng.

“Xiao Jiang,” Master Deng said, “I’m trying out a new flavor in the shop—well, not entirely new. Give it a taste.”

Jiang Tingzhou took a bite. The hot shortbread crumbled easily, releasing a rich aroma.

“Black Sugar filling?” he asked.

It wasn’t the plain black sugar from before. This version had chopped walnuts and melted mochi inside, adding complexity and fragrance.

“This is made with the sugar factory’s black sugar. I saw your bread and thought it was good, so I made this too,” Master Deng said. “Our pastries evolve with the times. Try it—see if it works.”

Jiang Tingzhou took a bigger bite, eating half the pastry. He ate elegantly, yet with visible enjoyment. Afterward, he smiled, no sugar crumbs at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s delicious,” he said. “Different from black sugar bread—everyone will love it.”

Master Deng smiled too. “By the way, Xiao Jiang, I agree with your plan to relocate the store. Now that I know you’re in charge at the sugar factory, I feel at ease.”

The Deng family’s shop was large for Morning Market Street standards. It and the old sugar factory next door were the two biggest establishments—but they were still too cramped. Now that crowds were coming, it felt even more so.

“I agreed not for any other reason,” Master Deng added. “I believe in you. I think you can do whatever you set your mind to.”

Jiang Tingzhou was stunned for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

He believed it too.

Wen Qi, who had been standing next to him, heard this as well.

Jiang Tingzhou had clarified his own thoughts today—and Wen Qi had seen it. Although a final decision hadn’t been made and further evaluation was needed, his perspective had already shifted.

“Boss Jiang,” Wen Qi said, extending a hand, “let’s keep in touch.”

Lu Baiyu had been watching from the side. His eyes never left Jiang Tingzhou. When he saw the handshake, he could tell Wen Qi’s attitude had changed. Naturally, he was happy for Jiang Tingzhou.

…But was that handshake lasting a little too long?

Wen Qi was never exactly a reserved person.

The area was crowded, and many people didn’t know what was being filmed. The scene was lively.

So, Lu Baiyu didn’t say anything. He just stepped aside slightly, blending with the crowd, then turned his body. A passerby bumped into Wen Qi—causing him to let go of Jiang Tingzhou’s hand.