The Game of Life TGOL

24 Chapter 24 Buddha’s Jumping Over the Wall
Translator: Larbre Studio
Editor: Larbre Studio
Jiang Feng, carrying his backpack, arrived at the restaurant at 12:40. The last class’s teacher had lived up to everyone’s expectations by running late, successfully solving the problem of the lunchtime food rush for the students and allowing everyone to enjoy the joy of eating leftovers in the deserted cafeteria.

Jiang Feng saw a lunch box on the kitchen counter.

A blue, three-layered, costly, very insulated lunch box that was very common in high school but quite rare in college.

“Senior, is this your lunch box?” Jiang Feng asked. He really couldn’t think of anyone who would use such a lunch box in college.

“It’s not mine; it’s Zhang Wei’s. He has another one; he asked me to put rice in the first layer, dishes in the second, and soup in the third,” Ji Yue explained.

Jiang Feng nodded; pretty good, environmentally friendly.

It seemed that Zhang Wei was intent on eating their takeaway every day. Worthy of being from a wealthy family who allegedly made a tidy sum from selling software, his monthly food expenses alone could match most students’ living expenses.

Despite the lunch hour having passed, Jiang Jiankang was still busy in the kitchen. He had taken out his precious Shaoxing wine, and there were as many as twenty or thirty plates of various sizes on the cooking table.

Shaoxing wine jars?

Jiang Feng leaned in and, sure enough, lamb shanks, pork stomach, trotter tips, trotter tendons, abalone shark fins, sea cucumbers, scallops—all the essential ingredients for Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall were there. And just by the looks of it, they were not the usual fare you’d find in the market, nor did they seem to be something Mr. Jiang Jiankang could gather in such short notice.

Their family just ran a common stir-fry restaurant, not having the extensive procurement means of a big hotel.

Jiang Jiankang was carving the deer tendon, the scallops were soaking, and on his left was a piece of authentic Jinhua Ham that Sir Jiang’s friend had sent a few years ago.

By the looks of it, Mr. Jiang Jiankang was going all out.

That piece of Jinhua Ham was his treasure, one Jiang Feng had never even tasted.

“Dad, where did you get all these ingredients?” Jiang Feng asked, curious.

“A customer brought them himself, your professor. The one who came for lunch on opening day, Chen, I think, quite an elderly fellow,” Mr. Jiang Jiankang said, pointing at the plate of abalone, “Go and carve the abalone.”

Jiang Feng went to grab a knife.

The abalone was a four-headed one, of excellent quality. It was unclear how Professor Li managed to get fresh, living four-headed abalone in Alan City, which wasn’t by the sea. Usually, dried abalone was used for Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall, due to its richer aroma, but since the customer had brought the ingredients, to each their own. For Mr. Jiang Jiankang, who was adept at making great broth, fresh abalone was more to his liking.

Jiang Feng had never tasted Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall.

It wasn’t because the ingredients were precious; nowadays, you could get a pot of Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall in hotels for just a few hundred yuan. But Sir Jiang was very particular about ingredients, dismissing hormone-treated meat and pesticide-laced vegetables. If the Jiang Family were to cook Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall, they would need the finest ingredients.

After all, Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall was once a signature dish at Taifeng Building, and Sir Jiang wouldn’t stand for his descendants smearing the reputation of the Jiang Family’s expert dishes.

Eighteen main ingredients, twelve auxiliary ones – Jiang Jiankang patiently processed each one. In between, he made everyone a hasty lunch, and even before Jiang Feng left for the classroom, he had been busy with the soaking of the fish maw.

Jiang Jiankang was no longer the head chef of the state-owned restaurant, getting the chance to prepare a grand dish with such fine ingredients was a rare opportunity for him.

It was midday, the sun blazing, enough to make one’s head spin.

On his way to the classroom, Jiang Feng called Sir Jiang.

Sir never had the habit of taking afternoon naps; according to his biological clock, he was supposed to be cooking food for his beloved pigs.

An enviable afternoon tea and meal addition.

“Hello, Feng, what’s up?” Sir Jiang’s robust voice came from the other end.

“Grandpa, a professor from our school wants to invite you over to make a clear soup with willow leaf-shaped swallows,” Jiang Feng got straight to the point.

“I won’t make it,” Sir rejected the request quite straightforwardly.

“Our professor provided his ingredients. He came to the restaurant today to ask Dad to make Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall; he brought his ingredients, and I’ve seen them, they’re great, truly rare fine ingredients,” Jiang Feng still hoped to complete this side quest.

The phrase “really great ingredients” clearly moved Sir Jiang, who was silent for a moment then spoke, “This professor from your school, why go to the trouble of specifically inviting me to make this dish?”

Thirty years ago, if someone invited Sir Jiang to cook a dish, he wouldn’t be surprised. After all, he was once a somewhat famous chef in a state-owned restaurant, having received many who came by his reputation. But now that he had been retired for so many years, and with so many great chefs in the world, they wouldn’t miss one like him.

“Our professor’s father tasted the clear soup willow leaf-shaped swallows made by Great-Grandfather at Taifeng Building when he was young. He wants his father to taste it again,” Jiang Feng explained.

“I’ll go to Alan City next week,” Sir sighed, “It’s been 70 years, and someone still remembers Taifeng Building.”

Jiang Feng hung up the phone, and although they only spoke for a few minutes, the phone heated up slightly, making it uncertain whether the heat was from the sun or Xiaomi’s inherent tendency to overheat.

During his afternoon class, Jiang Feng was somewhat distracted.

This was his first time seeing Mr. Jiang Jiankang making Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall, and not being able to witness the entire process kept him preoccupied.

“Feng, what are you thinking about? You’ve looked at your watch three times in the last two minutes,” Wang Hao nudged Jiang Feng with his elbow.

“My dad was making ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ in the kitchen at noon,” Jiang Feng said.

“I’ve had ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ before, it’s available at Yipin House in our city, 688 yuan for a pot, gone in two bites. It’s quite tasty, but not as miraculous as the novels make it out to be,” Wang Hao remarked, indicating that he too was worldly.

Jiang Feng was familiar with Yipin House whose specialty was Jiangzhe cuisine. ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ was not even considered a signature dish there.

“If you had the one that costs 1888 yuan, you wouldn’t think that way. My grandpa once mentioned a restaurant in Fujian where their ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ is so fragrant it wafts for miles, limited to a hundred servings a day, and you couldn’t get a reservation even if you waited for three months,” Jiang Feng said, pretending to pay attention to the lecture by turning the page of his book in sync with the teacher.

“Will the one your Uncle makes today be just as effective?” Wang Hao began to salivate unconsciously.

“Definitely not, but it will surely be better than the one for 688 yuan you ate,” Jiang Feng said.

The former head chef of that restaurant in Fujian could be considered Sir Jiang’s half mentor, and Sir Jiang’s ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ was taught by him.

That man now owns a nationally renowned restaurant, while the Jiang Family has a thriving eatery.

There’s also a pharmacy that’s about to open, a tailor shop that’s resigned to fate, a pet store surviving on razor-thin margins, and the old man’s beloved three pigs.

As soon as the class ended, Jiang Feng and Wang Hao rushed to the restaurant with their school bags.

Mrs. Wang Xiulian was sitting at the counter, one leg propped up, supporting her chin as she watched her dramas; Mr. Jiang Jiankang had moved a chair into the kitchen to keep watch over her ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’.

All the chairs in Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant shared one characteristic: they were sturdy.

The lotus leaves sealed in all the fragrance, making ‘Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall’ appear to be just an ordinary wine jar.

“Son, chop the vegetables,” Jiang Jiankang instructed, his gaze not leaving the jar in front of him for a second.

Jiang Feng picked up the knife and began chopping vegetables.

Starting at five, customers began trickling into the restaurant.

Jiang Jiankang handed over full control of cooking to Jiang Feng; although it was slightly cruel to the customers, Jiang Feng hadn’t heard the wonderful chime of experience points in a long while. His experience points hadn’t seen much increase in two days, and he had used up 1,000 that morning to level up Physics, resulting in a net negative growth.

Around six o’clock, Professor Li and his wife helped an elderly man with a cane into the restaurant.

“Dad, be careful,” Professor Li assisted his father to the nearest table to sit down.

Ji Yue went into the kitchen to tell Jiang Jiankang that Professor Li had arrived.

Jiang Jiankang carried the entire wine jar out.

Lifting the lid, he removed the lotus leaves.

The aroma hit them instantly, filling the entire restaurant.

The customers, who had been engrossed in their phones, couldn’t help but lift their heads, seeking the source of the aroma.

“What dish is this, it smells amazing!” a boy with glasses asked.

“Buddhas Jumping Over the Wall,” Ji Yue replied thoughtfully.

Poverty kept his mouth shut.

Mingyi shook his head and, trembling, stood up; Professor Li and his wife rushed to support him, fearing he would fall.

“It’s not this scent,” Mingyi’s voice was extremely hoarse.

“Sorry, Master Jiang, would you please pack it up?” Professor Li said, filled with apology.

“It’s my lack of skill.”

Ji Yue quickly went to find the takeout containers.

“Mr. Jiang, may I know when your grandfather is coming?” Professor Li turned his gaze to Jiang Feng.

“My grandpa said he’d be in Alan City next week,” Jiang Feng said.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble, really, thank you,” Professor Li said repeatedly.

“Your Grandpa, is he Jiang Weiguo?” Mingyi asked.

“Yes,” Jiang Feng nodded.

“I remember him, he wasn’t as tall as my waist back then. When he served food, Huiqing praised him for being so handsome,” Mingyi’s cloudy eyes sparkled with a hint of light.

Then he muttered some incoherent phrases no one could understand and left the restaurant, supported by Professor Li and his wife.