The Game of Life

At 11:08 AM, precisely on time, Taifeng Building opened for business.

Firecrackers weren’t allowed in the city district, which subtracted from the festive atmosphere of the opening. Since the two sirs disliked ceremonies like ribbon-cutting, considering them frivolous, Taifeng Building simply opened its doors to welcome guests. This presented a challenge for the journalists looking to write their press releases, as the lack of a ribbon-cutting ceremony meant they were short of material that could easily fill 500 words.

The specially invited guests had all arrived one after another and were being led to their predetermined seats by the waitstaff. The seating arrangements had been meticulously planned. Who would sit with whom, who should be seated next to whom, who must not sit next to each other, who should not share a table, and who would be best if they couldn’t even see each other—all of these considerations had been taken into account.

Take Tong Deyan, for example. His seating was the most difficult to arrange. Although Xia Mushi had offended many, he was of a higher generation, older in age and, most critically, he was seriously ill with not many days to live. Even if one harbored a million grievances against him, upon meeting him, one still had to greet him with a smile, had to keep smiling even without receiving a pleasant demeanor in return, and had to keep smiling even if scolded by him.

In short, when one saw Xia Mushi, the right response was to smile.

The menu for the guests in Section C had been set well in advance, and the kitchen was mostly prepared. Zhang Guanghang went to the hospital to fetch Xia Mushi, who in his current state of health could barely eat a few bites.

He had endured his suffering for so long just for this day; he wanted to witness Taifeng Building’s grand opening with his own eyes, to see the guests flock to its doors, to see it bustling with activity.

Only after he had seen it with his own eyes would he be able to die content.

The opening was at 11:08 AM, and the banquet began at 11:28 AM. In addition to the invited guests, there were quite a few walk-ins, and the bustling scene was certainly indicative of a thriving business.

The crowd gathered at the entrance for the raffle had gradually dispersed, and the eight lucky winners who received a 1,000 yuan voucher entered Taifeng Building pompously with friends in tow. As most people left, a few hesitated but eventually chose to dine there, along with some who stumbled in by accident, those who came specifically after seeing the news, making the number of walk-in customers quite substantial.

All the guests in Section C have arrived, should we start serving the dishes?” Ji Yue approached the serving window to ask.

“Serve the dishes, Feng, you start making the Sweet and Sour Yam now.” Jiang Weiguo nodded and gave the command, and Ji Yue instructed the staff to begin by serving the appetizer cold dishes.

Upon receiving the directive, Jiang Feng lit the stove and prepared to make Sweet and Sour Yam. Most guests were still deliberating over what to order based on their stomach capacity and wallet size, so the kitchen wasn’t too busy yet. It was the waitstaff in the main hall who were busier, as they had to answer all sorts of strange questions from the customers.

The six cold dishes included: Spicy Oil Bean Curd Skin with Bamboo Shoots, Smashed Cucumber, Shredded Potato Salad, Tiger Skin Peanuts, Splendid ’ Chickens Singing to Spring, and Seaweed Salad. Among them, Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring, a colorfully arranged cold dish platter created with braised beef, raw fish slices, broccoli, shrimp, cucumber strands, and various kinds of shredded radishes, was currently Taifeng Building’s most expensive cold appetizer platter. It was not sold a la carte but only used for banquets. Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring was personally crafted by Jiang Weiming. The two cold-dish chefs at Taifeng Building could at best assemble a mixed cold platter; the intricately arranged ones demanded knife skills and artistic ability that ordinary cold-dish chefs simply could not achieve.

Even Sang Ming, after perfecting his knife skills, could only manage to piece together a minimalist chicken design at best.

The busiest table in Section C was undoubtedly the press table; even before the dishes were served, they had already begun their work. Occasionally, upon recognizing one or two familiar tycoons at the adjacent tables, they would mentally startle and rewrite their draft articles.

“Isn’t that Mr. Xu Cheng over there?” A journalist with a sharp eye recognized Xu Cheng.

“It seems like it, and the person sitting next to Mr. Xu looks like Xia Mushi.” Two journalists from gourmet magazines began discussing.

“Who is Xia Mushi?” another journalist asked.

“Do you know Fen Garden? It’s the most expensive private kitchen in Beiping, and it’s run by Xia Mushi. However, he has a bad temper so it’s best not to provoke him.”

How did he come here? I heard his illness worsened last week to the point where he was hospitalized.”

“Was it just last week that he was admitted? Hasn’t Fen Garden been closed for over a year now?” A few informed journalists from gourmet magazines exchanged information with each other.

And there were those who were indifferent to these gossips.

“Tang, go take a photo of the decoration I just pointed out, get a close-up of that screen, and later when there are more people in the hall, take a group shot,” Reporter Hu began giving instructions to the cameraman, Tang.

“Reporter Hu, I just heard them mention that the guests at those other tables are well-known gourmets and food critics, should we go over and do some interviews later?” Tang asked.

“We’re not from a gourmet magazine, our focus is on the opening. Later, you just need to find out which famous guests are at those tables,” Reporter Hu started planning his overall strategy. “Then, when the dishes are served, make sure you take flattering shots of the dishes, and leave the rest of the writing to me.”

Tang nodded solemnly.

The journalists were bustling around incessantly, while the guests at the other tables in section C were leisurely indeed. The food and chef circles were intertwined, and with the community not being very large, everyone knew each other. It was rare to gather together like this. Besides most of them having a poor relationship with Xia Mushi, and about half of them not getting along with Tong Deyan either, they were still getting along quite well.

“They sure invited quite a few journalists, huh? I think those two tables over there are full of journalists, nearly 20 of them. Oh, the food is coming.” Pei Shenghua’s eyes were the sharpest, and from afar, he saw the waiter carrying dishes and said to Tong Deyan beside him.

“What brings Sir Xia here?” Tong Deyan didn’t care about the serving of dishes at all, instead focusing on Xia Mushi, who was sitting at the next table among a group of gourmets and food critics, “Didn’t he just get admitted to the hospital last week?”

“Sir Xia has been wanting to buy this place over a decade ago, this isn’t surprising. I’ve heard the owner behind this restaurant has quite the connections. Isn’t this restaurant opened by Jiang Feng’s family?” Pei Shenghua craned his neck to see the dish in the waiter’s hand, his attention captured by Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring, “That cold dish seems interesting.”

Most likely rumors, have we not seen enough of such cases?” Tong Deyan quietly sipped his tea, letting out a cold laugh, “How come Ling Guangzhao is here too, did their Eight-treasure House go bankrupt?”

Ling Guangzhao was the young proprietor of Eight-treasure House, his status similar to Sun Jikai’s at Jubao Building, only that he hadn’t learned culinary arts but specialized in business management instead. The decision to fully commercialize Eight-treasure House came from him, and though the turnover had been increasing over the years, the fine reputation of Eight-treasure House had almost been completely tarnished. It was no longer the first choice of loyal patrons, and the gap with the other four long-standing restaurants was becoming more apparent.

Tong Deyan had infamous disputes with Eight-treasure House.

As for why, nobody could really say. Perhaps it was because Tong Deyan once caught an Eight-treasure House chef badmouthing him to his face.

Ling Guangzhao didn’t have any ill intentions. He simply heard that the owner behind Taifeng Building had a significant background. Since they were all in the same industry, he managed to get a spot through his connections to scout out the competition and to make friends if possible, or at least avoid making more enemies.

Excuse me, sir, could you please move to the side? I need to serve the dishes now, ” the waiter said softly to Pei Shenghua, who happened to be sitting where the dishes were being served.

Spicy Tofu Skin with Bamboo Shoots, Smashed Cucumbers, Spicy Shredded Potatoes, Tiger-skin Peanuts, Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring, and Cold Seaweed Salad. Please enjoy.”

“Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring, this dish is something special. The chef here who does the cold dishes is really talented! Where did they scout him from?” said a chef at the same table. He was the head chef of a famous restaurant in Magic City and a good friend of Pei Shenghua’s, who’d been invited to show support for the event.

I haven t heard of any notable cold dish chefs changing jobs recently,” another chef commented.

It must be Master Jiang’s personal work, the one from Shu, Master Jiang,” Pei Shenghua speculated.

Shu? A famous chef named Jiang from Shu? I only remember Master Wu from Wu Family Restaurant being really good. Which restaurant does Master Jiang come from?” Pei Shenghua’s friend inquired.

“Wait, you’re not talking about that Master Jiang, are you?” Another chef at the table realized who he was referring to.

“Yes, that Master Jiang,” Pei Shenghua nodded.

“I know that Master Jiang too,” said another chef, who had been immersed in drinking tea, setting down his teacup.

“Which Master Jiang?” Pei Shenghua’s friend was baffled.

“That Master Jiang!” the three said in unison.

Pei Shenghua’s friend: ???

After the three at the table had explained to their friend which Master Jiang they were referring to in an excited chatter, Tong Deyan had quietly tasted all six cold dishes on the table.

Tiger-skin Peanuts aren’t bad, the bamboo shoots are alright too, and the shrimp in Splendid Chickens Singing to Spring are very good,” Tong Deyan commented.

“Oh my. Old Tong, how could you start eating? I haven’t even taken photos yet! Pei Shenghua slapped his thigh in regret.

Tong Deyan gave him a contemptuous look and didn’t bother with him.