The Game of Life-Chapter 842 - 841 Grandmaster (Part 2)
Chapter 842 -841 Grandmaster (Part 2)
Chapter 842 -841 Grandmaster (Part 2)
Jiang Feng spent many days in his memory.
So long that he began to suspect he might be trapped in this specific memory.
For seven consecutive days, the scenes Jiang Feng saw each day were the same. Starting from the morning, Jiang Chengde was the earliest to rise, preparing breakfast and lunch. The family ate dinner while Jiang Huiqin took lunch to school in a meal box. Jiang Chengde led the oldest, second, and third brothers to work at Taifeng Building, while the fourth brother stayed home to care for the fifth, sixth, and seventh siblings until Jiang Huiqin returned home after school, then the fourth went to Taifeng Building, leaving Jiang Huiqin to take care of the three little creatures. On days when she didn’t have school, Jiang Huiqin would also leave early, all dressed up, presumably to go on a date with Li Mingyi.
It was the same every day, like an infinite loop.
Jiang Feng could only stay in the house and couldn’t leave; he couldn’t even pass through the walls. The furthest he could go was getting stuck in the wall; he couldn’t see what was outside, only able to catch glimpses of the outside world when everyone left or returned and opened the door.
Thus, he remained in Jiang’s Old House for seven days, watching the little creatures’ marvelous performances for seven days.
He then discovered that Sir, when he was a child, used to bite his hands.
He bit fiercely, the kind that seemed quite flavorful.
Beyond that, there were no other discoveries.
Jiang Feng was getting frustrated.
It wasn’t that he had never stayed a long time in a memory; he had spent a considerable time in Xia Mushi’s memory before. But back then, Xia Mushi went out every day, visiting different places every day, and following him felt like going on a trip. Unlike now, confined every day to this small house, looking forward saw only walls and looking up saw only the skies, and if he observed carefully, even the stars each night showed no change.
It was really too boring, too uninteresting, and too uninspiring.
Jiang Feng only wished he could carry things in his memory; otherwise, he’d definitely run to the kitchen to chop vegetables, cook, and help Jiang Huiqin with dinner.
He experienced firsthand the reclusive life of a well-to-do family’s daughter, confined without stepping outside the inner or outer gates during feudal times—truly, it was no way for anyone to live.
It wasn’t until the eighth day that things finally began to change.
Jiang Chengde didn’t leave the house.
At first, Jiang Feng thought it was because he was taking a day off, as after preparing breakfast and lunch Jiang Chengde did not leave. After all, even in the wicked old society, it was reasonable for a head chef to take a break.
So Jiang Feng sat in the kitchen watching Jiang Chengde chop vegetables all day long.
He really did chop vegetables all day long, from morning till night, from vegetables to meat to seafood. Roughly every couple of hours, someone Jiang Feng had never seen before, looking like a young servant, would bring a basket of vegetables over and then drag a basket of chopped vegetables away, puzzling anyone who saw it.
Jiang Feng began to realize something was amiss on the second day Jiang Chengde didn’t leave.
The next day, Jiang Chengde still didn’t leave, and just like the day before, he spent the whole day chopping vegetables in the kitchen. The servants bringing and taking the vegetables were the same as the previous day.
The third day was the same.
The fourth day saw no change.
After watching Jiang Chengde chop vegetables at home for four whole days, Jiang Feng began to discern quite a few subtleties.
Jiang Chengde’s vegetable chopping was purposeful and consistent; Jiang Feng even noticed that the vegetables brought by the servants were carefully selected. First came the seafood; the first servant of the morning bringing seafood wouldn’t leave after delivering it but would wait outside. As soon as Jiang Chengde finished processing it, the servant would immediately take the seafood back. While taking back the processed seafood, the next servant would bring a basket of vegetables needing slicing, making a seamless transition.
The vegetables were categorized; some were sliced thickly, some thinly, some into shreds, some into dices, some into roll cuts.
The meat was also delivered separately: pork, chicken, duck, beef, lamb, cured meat, raw meat, and marinated meat.
To Jiang Feng, Jiang Chengde appeared chaotic and aimless in his all-day vegetable chopping, but in reality, he was very systematic and purposeful in practicing, or rather, revisiting his skills.
Jiang Feng felt that Jiang Chengde wanted to spend a few days revisiting the entire process of learning knife skills from years ago, only the order of the skills wasn’t as when he first learned them but rather was arranged according to his own planned sequence.
Every day was like this, repeating over and over again, yet seemingly each day was faster than the last.
Jiang Feng remembered the first day Jiang Chengde started processing seafood at the crack of dawn and didn’t finish until the moon hung high in the sky, the session lasting so long that the last servant waiting outside to collect the dishes had started to doze off from fatigue.
However, by the fifth day, Chengde had finished just after dusk.
Jiang Feng felt it wasn’t that he had improved so quickly but that he had intentionally slowed down in the earlier days as if he wanted to relish the process of going from a beginner to a proficient, using a somewhat intriguing method that was hard to comprehend.
Jiang Chengde practiced knife skills for a full seven days.
Over these seven days, he became faster each day, finishing earlier each day, until by the seventh day he was done by mid-afternoon. Jiang Feng guessed that the seventh day was a true display of Chengde’s real strength and speed.
During these seven days, Chengde spoke very little, entering the kitchen early in the morning and not emerging until all the dishes were chopped. Even during meals, he was always silent as if he was contemplating something. The Jiang family members did not dare to disturb him; even the three most boisterous ‘little creatures’ didn’t dare to wander near the kitchen. Even Jiang Huiqin hardly dared to speak to Chengde, fearing that a single word might disrupt the vague endeavor Chengde had embarked on these past few days.
During these seven days, it wasn’t just Si who took care of the three ‘little creatures’. The four older brothers took turns, and while Chengde was acting unusually, everyone else carried on their normal lives, following their usual routines.
On the eighth day, Chengde stopped chopping and started stir-frying instead.
The servant delivered two large baskets of fresh young greens to Chengde, who then spent an entire day at home stir-frying the vegetables from morning till night, making Jiang Feng’s arm feel sore just from watching.
This scene was all too familiar to him; it was how every child in the Jiang Family started learning fire control.
Stir-frying vegetables might seem easy, but it actually requires solid skill in controlling the heat, making it perfect for beginners to practice fire control. Chengde practiced tirelessly starting with stir-fried vegetables, except the vegetables he stir-fried did not look as bad as those of a typical beginner.
Any vegetable stir-fried by Chengde himself, even if it was just a simple plate of greens without even lard, was more fragrant and tempting than ordinary stir-fried vegetables.
The actions of the servants outside were also quite interesting. Previously, when Chengde was practicing his knife skills, the servant was responsible for delivering and collecting the dishes, usually not lingering in the yard. However, once Chengde started practicing fire control, a line of servants appeared in the yard, queueing outside the kitchen. As soon as several plates of stir-fried vegetables were ready, they would pack the dishes into food containers and run off at great speed, as though someone was whipping them from behind.
This convinced Jiang Feng that these servants were indeed from Taifeng Building.
Taifeng Building was not far from Jiang’s Old House, about a ten-minute walk, or just a few minutes if running. These servants and the ingredients they brought were clearly sponsored by Mr. Lu out of familial goodwill. Of course, Mr. Lu was not a philanthropist, as evidenced by his sending servants to wait at the doorway to immediately take away the dishes Chengde cooked as soon as they were ready largely because these dishes were meant to be served to patrons.
As to how they managed to sell several hundred plates of stir-fried vegetables in a day, that was Mr. Lu’s business.
Like with knifework, Chengde practiced fire control for seven days.
From stir-frying greens to sliced potatoes, shredded potatoes, double-cooked pork, up to oil-exploded double crisp on the last day, Chengde made the same dishes every day, sticking to them all day long. The difficulty increased daily until it reached the peak with oil-exploded double crisp.
It was as if a common chef was undergoing the process of mastering fire control over decades, except Chengde had condensed those decades into just seven days.
Jiang Chengde had not left the house for a full fourteen days.
During these fourteen days, the children initially played and made noise far from the kitchen but eventually ended up just like those servants, eagerly standing outside the kitchen and peering through the windows at Chengde practicing alone.
Tiny windows, tiny children.
It was like a painting.
Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.
Jiang Feng also began to take things as seriously as Chengde, watching attentively by Chengde’s side as he cooked in the kitchen.
Even though it was the same routine every day with no changes, he no longer found it monotonous or boring, but rather developed a keen interest, enjoying it immensely.
For he now understood what Chengde was doing and had finally realized what this segment of memory was trying to tell him.
It was showing him the birth of a grandmaster.
On the fifteenth day, Chengde began to practice seasoning.
Creating stock.
