The Game of Life

Chapter 548: Chapter 546: Eat (Third Update!)

For the next half hour, Jiang Zaidi and Jiang Shoucheng heartbreakingly educated Jiang Xiaoran on how to properly filial to Grandpa, how to rightfully praise Grandpa with flattery, how to serve Grandpa correctly, and how to ensure Grandpa’s physical and mental well-being.

The Jiang Family’s most filial eldest grandson and the second filial grandson made Jiang Xiaoran so dumbfounded that even Wang Hao, who was observing from the side, couldn’t help but listen intently to their advice. He was so impressed by their eloquent instruction that he even considered taking out his notebook to jot down notes.

Though he didn’t have a qualified Grandpa to show filial piety to.

After being jolted awake by Mrs. Jiang’s words, the Jiang Family members felt that the crisis, which wasn’t really a crisis, was over, and there was no need to hold a meeting to discuss how to deal with the opponent. They all went about their business–those who needed to clean continued cleaning, those who wanted to chat kept chatting, and those who were slacking continued to slack.

Jiang Feng and Zhang Guanghang discussed and felt it was necessary to inform the two Sirs about the incident. After all, the Sirs were Taifeng Building’s true trump card, and the younger generation of Taifeng needed to seize the last moments before March 15th to sharpen their skills.

Although the enemy wasn’t very fearsome, they had to take it seriously.

Jiang Feng, who was free of worries and feeling light, used the excuse of checking on the progress of dinner in the kitchen and asking if the Sirs needed any assistance to slip into the kitchen, hoping to see if there was any leftover chicken tofu flower to snack on.

In the kitchen, Jiang Feng encountered Professor Li, who had been missing. Professor Li, holding a bowl, was eating chicken tofu flower while praising Jiang Weiming’s exceptional culinary skills.

A full bowl of chicken tofu flower, the serving was so generous that Jiang Feng regretted not coming to the kitchen sooner.

“Feng, is something the matter?” Jiang Weiming saw Jiang Feng.

“Granduncle Weiming, I came to see if you needed any help, worried that you might be too busy.” Jiang Feng said with a smile, noticing that there was still a bit of chicken tofu flower left in the pot, about enough for a bowl.

Sir looked up at Jiang Feng and was disappointed with his grandson’s poor attempt at a lie.

“There’s nothing that needs help right now, we’ll be eating soon. If you’re hungry, there’s still some chicken tofu flower left in the pot,” Jiang Weiming said cheerily.

Just as Jiang Feng was about to thank Granduncle Weiming and say he wouldn’t be shy, he noticed there was only one bowl on the table.

A single empty bowl meant that only one between Jiang Weiming and Jiang Weiguo had eaten the chicken tofu flower.

“Granduncle, haven’t you eaten yet?” asked Jiang Feng.

“Your Granduncle Weiming ate too much of this when I was young, didn’t like it, so I stopped eating it,” replied Jiang Weiming.

Jiang Feng certainly didn’t believe Jiang Weiming’s words. When Jiang Weiming was young, resources were scarce, and even if he was a chef at a state-owned restaurant, he couldn’t possibly have eaten too much chicken tofu flower.

“Granduncle, you’ve worked hard cooking these dishes, you can’t just not eat them. Let me serve you the last bowl from the pot, eat it while it’s hot.” Jiang Feng really wanted another bowl, but in the Jiang Family, there had never been a rule where the cook would go hungry waiting for others to eat.

Sir usually ate while cooking in the kitchen over the years.

“I won’t eat,” Jiang Weiming shook his head, “I can barely taste anything these days; no matter how good something is, it’s a waste for me to eat, there’s no need.”

Jiang Feng was taken aback.

He knew that Jiang Weiming’s sense of taste had severely declined, but he didn’t think he could hardly taste flavors anymore.

“Then Granduncle, how did you…” Jiang Feng was a bit dumbfounded.

Previously, when Jiang Weiming guided him in cooking, after tasting the dishes and giving feedback, the comments were logical and well-founded. The issues and faults he pointed out were all correct.

“Although I can’t taste much, my tongue still has sensation, and can judge whether a dish is good or not. But…” Jiang Weiming’s smile was tinged with bitterness, “but I can’t taste the true flavors of the dishes anymore.”

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“There’s just a bit left in the pot, Feng, you might as well eat it. It’s a waste for me to eat these things anyway,” Weiming Jiang said.

Feng Jiang didn’t speak, took a fresh bowl from the cabinet, and filled it with all the remaining chicken tofu pudding in the pot, a full bowl.

Feng Jiang handed the bowl to Weiming Jiang.

“Granduncle Weiming, even if you can’t taste it well, this is a dish you made with effort, and you should eat it,” Feng Jiang said, “You are the chef who made this dish. If even you eating it is considered a waste, then we really would be wasting it.”

“Third Brother, listen to Feng,” Wang Hao, who had been silent until now, spoke up, “So what if you can’t taste? Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy good food, does it?”

“If we can’t taste, we can still enjoy the texture. The old woman at my home also has developed a heavier taste over the years, always complaining that what used to taste good doesn’t have much flavor now, but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying her meals,” it was obvious that Wang Hao had been holding back these words for quite some time.

“Eat!”

Weiming Jiang was taken aback, looking at the earnest face of Feng Jiang and Wang Hao’s face full of dissatisfaction and indignance. He smiled helplessly.

“Third Brother, just eat. If even you, the cook, won’t eat, it makes me, who’s here to mooch a meal, feel embarrassed,” Professor Li said with a smile, holding his bowl.

“I’ll eat,” Weiming Jiang said with a smile, taking the bowl and scooping up a big spoonful.

“I think in the future, we old men with diminishing taste buds should cook a separate batch for ourselves; otherwise, it feels uncomfortable to eat something that’s tasteless,” Weiming Jiang said.

Wang Hao turned his head away, determined not to classify himself among the old men with diminishing taste.

Feng Jiang watched as Weiming Jiang finished the full bowl of chicken tofu pudding, feeling that his own presence in the kitchen – neither sneaking a bite nor being able to help – was somewhat superfluous. Just as he was thinking of sneaking away, Professor Li called out to him.

“Feng, come with me to the study, let’s talk about your graduation thesis,” Professor Li said, putting down his bowl.

Feng Jiang followed Professor Li to the study.

For a new graduate, the graduation thesis is indeed a matter of great concern, and Feng Jiang had spent quite some time on it during the New Year period. He had intended to visit the Li Mansion and discuss the thesis with Professor Li but was promptly sidetracked upon arriving in Beiping by the major news about Rolan and had completely forgotten about it.

Professor Li had already read the part that Feng Jiang wrote and discussed some more detailed aspects with him. He also recommended several scholarly journals for Feng to read in his spare time, encouraging him to finish the first draft soon and hand it over to him for revisions.

As long as Feng Jiang completed the first draft, the rest would be out of his hands; Professor Li would take care of the editing and amendment, and all Feng would need to do is prepare for the defense.

The two discussed in the study for over half an hour until Chen Suhua came in to inform them that dinner was about to be served and they should go out to eat, which brought their conversation to a pause.

“By the way, Granduncle, those letters you gave me last time – I’ve already finished transcribing them. Do you want me to bring them with me next time to return to you?” Feng Jiang asked.

He had stored the letters in a game prop delivery box, which was then placed in his inventory. Items kept in the delivery box stayed fresh, and Feng Jiang thought it was also good for preserving letters.

“It’s no use for me to keep those things. Grandma Chen likes to tidy up and clean my bookshelf, and if kept with me, who knows, one day she might bump against it during cleaning, knock it off and shove it into a corner where it might get damaged. After all, those letters were originally written by my mother to your great-grandfather, and since they were not sent back then, passing them on to you now could be considered returning them to their rightful owner,” Professor Li never intended to take back items he had given away.

“Preservation is your job now. If I kept them, figuring out how to preserve them would be quite bothersome anyway. Consider it me being lazy and leaving this task in your hands,” Professor Li said with a laugh.

“Let’s go have dinner. I wasn’t feeling hungry, but after eating that bowl of chicken tofu pudding, it whet my appetite. The only question is whether or not your grandfather and Granduncle Weiming will make sweet rice dumplings. I wasn’t paying attention when I was in the kitchen earlier.”

“There probably won’t be sweet rice dumplings. When Grandpa came, he brought plenty of sticky rice balls, the ones with sesame filling, and they’re really delicious,” Feng Jiang said, leaving the study with Professor Li.

“In that case, I’ll have to eat more. Grandma Chen is from the north and only makes sweet rice dumplings. I hardly had any sticky rice balls in the years I lived in Alan City.”

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