The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 87

It wasn’t difficult for Bingcheng Xiaochao and Haoshi to pay the millions in advertising fees. For Zhou Bing, that amount was easily covered by his own pocket money.

Money wasn’t the issue. What mattered was whether he would fully stand on Jiang Tingzhou’s side—and that depended on the organizer’s attitude and whether Jiang Tingzhou could follow through on his plans.

Zhou Bing’s father, himself a chef, had heard of Jiang Tingzhou and eventually introduced him to Director Zeng from the organizing committee.

The organizer of this chef competition operated under the Dongjiang Food and Beverage Association, but functioned relatively independently. It had the association’s backing in name only and didn’t report directly to it.

The key figure in charge, Director Zeng Rong, had a complicated background. He had once served as a secretary to a political leader and later worked in a state-owned enterprise. He’d been friends with Liu Ping for many years. Though he appeared upright and solid, he was actually a shrewd and well-connected figure in the culinary world.

Even though the sugar factory had invested 10 million yuan in advertising, they had never met him in person. Zeng Rong didn’t casually dine with others, nor did he accept gifts. Many people tried to get a meeting with him daily. 

It was only through Zhou Bing’s father that an appointment was made. However, before that, Zhou Bing had specifically called him to give him a heads-up about the situation, intending to remind him of something.

“Zeng Rong wasn’t too pleased when he heard you wanted to change the competition schedule,” Zhou Bing said. “You’re challenging decisions he already made, trying to take over control — he might not go along with it.”

Zhou Bing had put it tactfully. Zeng Rong’s first response had been: “Absolutely impossible.”

It had taken Zhou’s father half an hour of persuasion over the phone just to secure a meeting.

“I know,” Jiang Tingzhou replied.

“Also… did you offend him before?” Zhou Bing asked. “He told my dad he’s seen you before, and from what I heard…”

It certainly hadn’t been admiration or praise.

“It’s not exactly an offense,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “Back during the CCTV cooking competition, he sent someone — presumably a handpicked protégé. The girl was pretty talented but unlucky. sHe lost to me in the semifinals and didn’t make the top three.”

Zhou Bing fell silent for a moment, thinking to himself: That basically counts as offending him.

Jiang Tingzhou had downplayed it. Zhou Bing looked it up later— and found the truth was worse than Jiang described.

The contestant who lost to Jiang Tingzhou at the CCTV competition was Ye Shunxin—a young chef and relative of Zeng Rong. She had received a lot of media hype before the event, being touted as a prodigy in the culinary world. She was six months younger than Jiang Tingzhou.

She did have real skill, and the CCTV contest was supposed to be her moment to shine. But Jiang Tingzhou blocked her path and knocked her out in the semifinals. She missed the top three, and the whole PR strategy fell flat. She even went quiet on social media for a while.

In short, in the world of cooking, anyone who crossed paths with Jiang Tingzhou seemed doomed to lose.

Changing an already finalized schedule was difficult—and having this kind of personal history with Zeng Rong made it even harder.

After hearing all this, Wen Qi offered to handle the discussion himself or have Li Shuyan step in, but Jiang Tingzhou refused.

“For other matters, I’m fine with letting you handle them,” he said, “but not this one. This is a chef’s issue — let the chef deal with it.”

Besides, he didn’t think what happened before was necessarily a disadvantage.

On the way to Zeng Rong’s office, Jiang Tingzhou received a call from Lu Baiyu. He didn’t mention the details, but Lu Baiyu had clearly heard about the situation and asked with concern if he wanted someone from the TV station to accompany him. Qin Rushuang had already given a heads-up to help smooth things over. Zeng Rong wouldn’t dare ignore the TV station completely.

But Jiang Tingzhou politely declined. “No need.”

“Tingzhou, I’ve asked around. Zeng Rong isn’t easy to deal with. He’s pretty stubborn,” Lu Baiyu said. “I’m just worried you…”

Jiang Tingzhou felt that Lu Baiyu had grown increasingly naggy lately, wanting to get involved in everything. “Okay, I got it,” he said and hung up.

He had already arrived at the venue. When he entered Zeng Rong’s office, the director kept a polite demeanor, smiling as he reached out to shake hands. “Mr. Jiang, I’ve heard of you. I watched the CCTV competition—you were impressive. A rising star indeed.”

Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “That’s fate, I suppose.”

“Indeed, it’s fate. When you were a contestant, we happened to cross paths. Now that you’re a boss, I didn’t expect we’d meet again.” Zeng Rong invited him to sit and asked while preparing tea, “What would Mr. Jiang like to drink?”

Jiang Tingzhou glanced at the tea boxes. “Lapsang Souchong will do.”

The box labeled “Lapsang Souchong” was right next  to them.

Zeng Rong took a look, shook the can, and said, “Ah, bad timing. We just ran out of that tea.”

A minor thing—but in such settings, tea is usually offered as a gesture of respect. The specific type isn’t the point.

But Jiang Tingzhou understood: he wasn’t welcome. The fake smile said as much.

“No worries,” he replied with a smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin. “I brought some myself.”

It was Lapsang Souchong, enough to brew a pot. 

Jiang Tingzhou had not only brought his own tea, but also turned on the kettle, grabbed the teapot, and started making tea himself.

At this point, trying to flatter Zeng Rong was pointless.

He got straight to the point: “Director Zeng, you know why I’m here. There’s a problem with the current chef competition. It has to be changed.”

“I’ve been running this event for years, and now you say there’s a problem?” Zeng Rong scoffed. “Mr. Jiang, your cooking is excellent—I admire that. But aren’t you being a bit too bold, pointing fingers before we’ve even started?”

The kettle began to boil with a low gurgle. Jiang Tingzhou remained calm. “Director Zeng, I’m here to cooperate. We share the same goal—to make this competition a success. In previous years, it wasn’t televised, and the format lacked professionalism. But this is the 20th anniversary. Wouldn’t it be a pity if we didn’t make it memorable?”

Zeng Rong shook his head. “You make it sound so easy. You think hiring two directors and relying on your few million followers online is going to cut it?”

If the creator of A Bite of China himself showed up, he might be persuasive — but everyone knew he was unavailable. Zeng Rong had reached his position not due to personal grudges — he just thought Jiang Tingzhou was dreaming. More importantly, he didn’t want anyone challenging his authority.

Jiang Tingzhou didn’t respond immediately. He placed the tea leaves into the pot, waited for the water to boil, and slowly poured it in, while Zeng Rong continued confidently:

“The TV station wants real ratings. You’re pitting unknown chefs against those variety shows and dramas with tens of millions of fans?”

Even CCTV’s chef competition, which had big funding and celebrity judges, barely performed well in terms of ratings and attention.

“So what if they’re celebrities?” Jiang Tingzhou asked. “Compared to them, isn’t eating something everyone actually cares about?”

Too much professionalism can alienate the audience. No matter how delicious the food looked on-screen, the audience couldn’t taste it — there was no emotional connection.

“The real problem with the current competition is that it’s out of touch,” Jiang said. “If we don’t try to change it, how will we know if it can’t be done?”

But no matter how good the argument, Zeng Rong wasn’t one to be swayed by mere theory.

“Let’s not argue over the format yet,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “We’re still in the preparation stage. Some contestants have already signed up. I propose a simple pre-match warm-up event. The sugar factory will fully fund it. If it fails, everything continues as planned, and you still get your 10 million in advertising. But if it works, it proves that my approach is effective—and I want you to consider changing the plan.”

Zeng Rong didn’t immediately reject it. After thinking it over, he subconsciously accepted the cup of tea Jiang Tingzhou handed over.

The tea was excellent—he could tell just from the aroma. He took a sip.

Pre-match warmups had been done before. If it succeeded, great. If not, the blame would fall entirely on Jiang Tingzhou.

So he nodded cautiously. “What do you plan to do?mIf it’s just a flashy gimmick that crosses the line, it won’t be acceptable. It could ruin the competition’s reputation.”

“The competition is about cooking,” Jiang Tingzhou replied.

“What kind of dish?”

Before he could answer, the office door suddenly burst open.

A girl with shoulder-length hair walked in. She greeted Zeng Rong: “Uncle.”

Then she turned slightly to Jiang Tingzhou and said coldly, “So you’re really here.”

It was Ye Shunxin—the one who lost to him in the previous competition.

Ordinarily, no one could enter Zeng Rong’s office without an appointment. But as his niece, she didn’t need one. 

Zeng Rong was startled to see her. “Why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “Even though contestants aren’t supposed to have contact before the competition, her phone number was still in the program team’s records. Please, have a seat. Miss Ye is also a contestant this year.”

Zeng Rong hadn’t noticed earlier, but Jiang Tingzhou had deliberately poured three cups of tea.

“Yes, I am,” Ye Shunxin said. “You didn’t register, went to work in a factory, and now you’re even here to see my uncle. What are you doing, Jiang Tingzhou?” She spoke bluntly. 

Ever since her loss, she’d held a grudge, always complaining about him with a bitter sense of injustice.

Inviting a hostile rival like this didn’t seem to benefit him in any way.

“Everyone has their own path,” Jiang Tingzhou replied. “I don’t need to enter the competition anymore.”

He had already won countless competitions in his previous life.

“Don’t get cocky!” Ye Shunxin said, eyes sharp. “I only lost last time because I made a mistake. I might not be any worse than you.”

“A seasoned chef blaming a mistake?” Jiang Tingzhou took a sip of tea. “Come on. A loss is a loss.” He didn’t spare her feelings at all.

Zeng Rong quickly stopped her from cursing. “Alright, enough. Now’s not the time for this.”

“Uncle, tell me honestly,” Ye Shunxin turned to him with wide eyes. “Am I just a tiny step away from becoming a top chef? Haven’t I worked hard? Am I better than him now?”

Zeng Rong broke into a sweat under the pressure of those questions, nodding repeatedly: “Yes, yes, yes.”

He still remembered that semifinal—braised pork, drawn randomly. Both contestants had to cook the same dish.

A popular classic, yet deceptively hard to win with. It required real technique. 

Zeng Rong had tasted both dishes, and to be honest, her loss had not been unjustified.

“Why did you have to bring her here if you wanted to talk business?” Zeng Rong asked, trying to shift topics. “So, what dish are you planning to make for this warm-up?”

Jiang Tingzhou answered, “Naturally—braised pork.” Then he turned to Ye Shunxin. “Want to compete again? This time, I’ll make sure you lose convincingly.”

At that point, even if Zeng Rong wanted to say no, Ye Shunxin wouldn’t let it go.