The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 83

Wen Qi soon learned that Lu Baiyu had come to discuss business. He cursed inwardly—what a damn rich, clingy ex-boyfriend Jiang Tingzhou had, constantly stepping on him like this. Absolutely despicable and shameless.

But from a purely business standpoint, setting personal feelings aside, there was nothing wrong with the cooperation proposal from Lu Group.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “We can discuss the details further.”

But then a thought struck him—“discussing in detail” might just play into Lu Baiyu’s hands. No matter what he did under these circumstances, it would only benefit Jiang Tingzhou.

Jiang Tingzhou, however, didn’t mention anything about the Association. He knew that was a tale too far-fetched for now. At the moment, he simply said after some thought, “No rush. We can start by cooperating on Simu’s products and see how it goes.”

He genuinely thought the chocolate was good. The ingredients mattered, but there was no need to completely bind himself to Lu Group.

Soon after, Lu Baiyu received the result—Jiang Tingzhou had finally removed him from the blacklist.

Although he had expected it, when he actually clicked “Accept,” Lu Baiyu’s fingertips trembled slightly.

On Jiang Tingzhou’s side, all their past chat records had long been deleted. After adding him back, the conversation history was blank.

But Lu Baiyu hadn’t deleted anything. His message history remained intact.

At the beginning, it was mostly Jiang Tingzhou’s texts—telling him all kinds of trivial things. Once they officially got together, Jiang sent even more messages. Lu Baiyu, on the other hand, rarely responded, and when he did, his replies were brief.

Later on, Jiang Tingzhou’s messages stopped getting through. One red exclamation mark after another.

Even now, after being re-added, Jiang Tingzhou said nothing. The business details didn’t need to be discussed between the two of them directly, and certainly not through chat.

Lu Baiyu typed and revised his message over and over, spending more than ten minutes before finally sending:

【“Tingzhou, happy cooperation.”】

Not long after, Jiang Tingzhou replied with a simple “Mm.”

In reality, it wasn’t a particularly important cooperation. The sugar factory had many suppliers—Lu Group was just one of them. If anything went wrong, they could easily be replaced. As the primary party in control, Jiang Tingzhou had many options.

But when Lu Baiyu saw that one-word reply, he confirmed several times that there was no red exclamation mark. He couldn’t fall asleep. He stood on the balcony for a long time, trying to calm himself down.

The next day, he came down with a mild fever—Jiang Tingzhou’s cold was cured, and now it was his turn.

Even though his head was spinning, Lu Baiyu still worried about Jiang Tingzhou constantly. He couldn’t calm down for several days.

Only now did he realize—Jiang Tingzhou had been posting on WeChat Moments quite frequently lately. Probably because he was surrounded by more people now: neighbors, coworkers at the sugar factory, even leaders from his fan groups were active. The posts got lots of likes, so he shared more and more—once every two or three days.

At first, the photos were of vegetables from his home garden. Then, more images appeared of his fans and online friends. Lately, most were of preparations for the sugar factory’s new storefront—colorful and vibrant.

Jiang Tingzhou rarely posted selfies, but he’d share photos of meals, work, and the scenery from his windows. Since Cheng Shifei came, his photography skills had improved—no longer the awkward, poorly framed shots from his early livestreaming days.

He had become much livelier.

Lu Baiyu remembered—back then, Jiang Tingzhou only smiled around An Xiaoping. But now, he always seemed cheerful.

He posted a photo of a breakfast plate with fried eggs, extending the shot to the rising sun outside the window, captioned: “Sunny-side-up Sun.”

Another was a squashed croissant, captioned: “Croissant.zip.”

The most popular post featured a table full of chocolates. After partnering with Simu, they sent over various flavors. Jiang tried them all, and later posted: “I gained three pounds.”

Three pounds?

Lu Baiyu didn’t see it. Jiang Tingzhou still looked too thin. His cheeks had no meat—he could stand to gain a bit more.

Lu Baiyu re-read every post multiple times, examining each photo carefully as if he could write an essay on every single one. He wished he could engrave them into his memory but worried Jiang Tingzhou might delete them or restrict access—so he took screenshots of every Moment.

To avoid being too obvious, he didn’t like every post. After thinking it over, he only liked the very first one.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t pay him much attention. His current circle picked up on the “three-pound weight gain” much more clearly. Even his fans joined in on the joke.

【“Lose weight? In this life? Impossible.”】

Even if someone tried to ignore Jiang Tingzhou and boycott sugar factory products, they couldn’t resist when A Bite of China Season 2 finally released its trailer.

It had the same style and appeal as before. Just the food scenes in the trailer were enough to make people drool.

Jiang Tingzhou had received a heads-up from Cheng Shifei—post-production was almost done; it would soon be airing.

Cheng Shifei, not without selfishness, placed the sugar factory’s biscuit scenes right at the beginning.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t expect to be in the shot, but there he was—for about two seconds. Short, but enough to leave an impression.

Jiang Tingzhou had long surpassed the “million-follower” stage. His follower count was now approaching three million. Riding this wave, the Deng family and the sugar factory’s commercial street storefront entered trial operation—and it was packed on the very first day.

Not only was the store full, but lines also extended out to the street, down the park road, all the way to the roadside.

From the beginning, Jiang Tingzhou had done intermittent livestreams, introducing every product. Public interest remained high, and the sugar factory introduced new items at a rapid pace.

After the factory’s boxed chocolate milk sold out, the store launched black tea hot cocoa and matcha hot cocoa. There was always something new.

Not just fans—regulars started coming too. Word-of-mouth spread quickly, yet the prices remained unchanged. Toasted sandwiches for 3 yuan, shortbread from the neighboring store for 2 yuan. Cheap, but retaining their original flavor.

The sugar factory had once been obscure online. Now, it was the hottest check-in spot in Yongqing. After A Bite of China aired, it exploded online and offline. Everywhere, people were posting check-ins.

With such momentum, it was only natural that Jiang Tingzhou secured a position as a board member of the Yongqing Branch of the Dongjiang Food and Beverage Association.

His previous strategic planning had brought him steadily to this point. When the Association restructured, the sugar factory easily took over the spot.

On the day of the formal meeting, when Jiang Tingzhou arrived at the Association building, he saw Jiang Moli.

She looked haggard—clearly worn down by the Jiang family’s situation—but when she saw him, her eyes lit up.

“Tingzhou,” she called.

It wasn’t strange for her to be here—the Jiang family had to hand over their board seats.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t want to speak with her, but she followed him into the elevator and said, “I moved. Sold the house.”

Jiang Tingzhou was silent for a while before replying, “Oh.”

Gongyan needed funds for restructuring. They had hired an external chef, but Jiang Moli didn’t want to return to that house. Too many bad memories.

She sold it herself. She took almost nothing—only a photo of her and Jiang Tingzhou. She searched long and hard but only found one.

She wanted to explain, but it felt meaningless now, so she said nothing.

The elevator seemed to reach the top floor instantly.

As Jiang Tingzhou stepped out, she called after him, “Be careful in the Association, Tingzhou. It wasn’t easy getting here. Many people are eyeing those director seats—they’re not simple. Don’t fall into a trap. And…”

Jiang Tingzhou glanced back. “I know.”

He had walked this road before—he knew it wasn’t some cozy golden nest.

Jiang Moli understood from his expression. She wanted to say, “Mom will help you,” but it sounded hollow now.

She could no longer help him.

She stood there, watching him enter the Association’s meeting room.

It was a board meeting—Jiang Tingzhou could attend, but Jiang Moli, now no longer a board member, could not. This symbolic handover made her feel a deep sadness—not for herself, but for her only child.

If only she could help him somehow.

Meeting Jiang Moli was a small detour. When Jiang Tingzhou stood in the meeting room and Meeting Jiang Moli was a small detour. When Jiang Tingzhou stood in the meeting room and introduced himself as the new board member, thunderous applause followed.

Everyone appeared very welcoming and smiled warmly. President Zhong of the Yongqing chapter was himself a former chef. He now owned a fast food chain with hundreds of stores nationwide. He was a friendly person who welcomed Jiang Tingzhou and praised the injection of new blood into the Association—at least on the surface.

President Zhong sped up Jiang Tingzhou’s appointment process and quickly settled the sponsorship for the upcoming chef competition.

He smiled often, but at times his tone turned sharp—especially after formally introducing him.

Jiang Moli was right—the Association wasn’t peaceful.

Jiang Tingzhou had barely sat down before someone targeted him.

“Mr. Jiang is certainly young and promising,” said Vice President Zhao Teng, seated to President Zhong’s right. “But it’s not easy to hold onto that position.”

He was blunt—because his brand directly competed with the sugar factory. His sales and popularity had suffered greatly. Losing business was no small matter.

But Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t someone easily pushed around.

Before he could respond, Wen Qi, standing nearby, sneered, “Mr. Zhao, maybe worry about your own business. Stop harassing our boss and trying to poach our people.”

Zhao Teng slammed the table. “You! Mr. Jiang, must your people be so aggressive?”

Jiang Tingzhou glanced at Wen Qi. “He’s not wrong. If I’d said it, it would’ve been even harsher.”

He believed he’d already been polite—especially since Zhao Teng had started with the disrespect.

President Zhong quickly stepped in. “Enough, enough. Why are we arguing now? Zhao Teng, you’re too old for this. Let’s get back to business. The chef competition is approaching. President Liu of the Provincial Association has already issued the notice—preparations are underway. They say this year’s scale is the largest yet. Any thoughts?”

Vice President Zhao Teng scoffed. “Isn’t it like before? Just pay the sponsorship fee if you want in, right?”

“Not this year,” said President Zhong. “This time, it’s different. The event will be broadcast on Dongjiang TV. President Liu has secured major sponsors, and there are several premium advertising slots—starting at five million yuan.”

Silence filled the room.

Jiang Tingzhou was surprised at first—it was a major event in the industry, not some small activity.

Jiang Tingzhou quickly understood. While this competition was an industry highlight and a great opportunity to scout talent, most businesses weren’t expanding like the sugar factory. Even if they needed staff, a small sponsorship spot would suffice to access participating chefs.

Regular sponsorship through the Association only cost a few hundred thousand yuan. But title-level exposure starting at five million? The ROI just didn’t add up.

The show had industry clout, but little mainstream attention. Even with a provincial broadcast, it might not make a splash. Spending millions on ads made less sense than regular primetime commercials.

Everyone stayed quiet.

For chefs, it was a chance to prove themselves. But for business owners, return on investment came first.

Vice President Zhao Teng, of course, didn’t want to foot the bill. He looked at Jiang Tingzhou and said mockingly, “Mr. Jiang, how about you take this on? The sugar factory is booming. You were even on A Bite of China. This is the perfect opportunity!”

Jiang Tingzhou replied calmly, “Ah, so even you acknowledge the sugar factory’s success. That’s because I spend money wisely—not wastefully. I’ve seen your ads everywhere this year, yet why are your sales still dropping?”

If Wen Qi had been blunt, Jiang Tingzhou was merciless.

Zhao Teng slammed the table again.