The Game of Life TGOL

Chapter 238 - 237: Who Will Cut?

Chapter 238: Chapter 237: Who Will Cut?

Translator: 549690339 |

“Wow, roasted suckling pig!” Pei Shenghua always managed to express his amazement before everyone else.

“Roasted Pig, here is the dipping sauce, please enjoy everyone.” the server said, “Do you need help cutting it?”

“No need, we can do it ourselves.” Pei Shenghua chuckled dismissively. At their tables were either professional chefs or seasoned foodies. To have someone else cut the Roasted Pig would be a laughingstock if word got out.

The waiter placed the iron tray with knives on the table as well. Pei Shenghua handed a knife to Tong Deyan and picked up another one, saying, “Master Tong, shall we cut together?”

“Save it, have you ever eaten Roasted Pig? Don’t just hack at it blindly, I’ll do the cutting.” Tong Deyan said, standing up, he positioned the knife at the belly of the pig and sliced it open with a clean and neat cut.

The pig’s belly was stuffed with rich ingredients, having absorbed the essences of both the broth and the suckling pig’s fat, emanating a tantalizing aroma. Tong Deyan made several cuts at different parts of the pig, separating the meat from each section. As he cut, the pork sizzled enticingly, crispy on the outside and tender inside, the sounds alone were extremely tempting.

“You’re a real connoisseur, Master Tong, it seems you haven’t skimped on your share!” Pei Shenghua exclaimed in admiration.

Tong Deyan’s gaze shifted to Xu Cheng’s table. Except for Xia Mushi, the diners at that table surely couldn’t match Tong Deyan in professional skill when it came to cutting Roasted Pig.

“Need a hand?” Tong Deyan asked.

“We would appreciate Master Tong’s help.” a diner said with a smile.

When it came to treating guests, Tong Deyan and Xia Mushi were quite similar. Chefs didn’t need to be given face, but diners were guests and deserved good treatment.

Just like before, Tong Deyan’s hands moved quickly. In a few swift cuts, the Roasted Pig on the table was neatly divided. After dealing with the Roasted Pig, Tong Deyan sat back to his original spot, nonchalantly picking up his food as if nothing happened, all the while able to heartily praise with Pei Shenghua how well Jiang Weiming had handled the ingredients and the fire control for the Roasted Pig.

The other table of chefs:…

They all knew deep down, somehow they must have offended Tong Deyan, and a few were utterly puzzled. They’d only spoken ill of him behind his back, yet it seemed like Tong Deyan knew everything. The two chefs at the next table wielding knives already had looks of difficulty on their faces, exchanging hesitant, undecided glances.

As the saying goes, it’s not scary to wear the same dress, but it’s embarrassing for the one who looks uglier. Losers in comparison suffer more, and goods are discarded if they can’t match up. Unfortunately, these two chefs were in a position that was humiliating, disheartening, and made them feel like throwing themselves away all at once.

With Tong Deyan’s demonstration preceding them, their attempt to cut the Roasted Pig now seemed pretentious. The guests were either chefs or gourmet critics — a misstep could lead to major embarrassment.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you both look down on the restaurant’s Roasted Pig so much that you’re unwilling to even make a cut?” Tong Deyan began to provoke.

Pei Shenghua sat eating his pork, watching the drama unfold with relish, a picture of utter contentment.

With no choice but to act, the two chefs, tense and with gritted teeth, began to make the cuts.

Their skills were actually quite good, but when compared to Tong Deyan, they seemed rather amateurish.

“This Roasted Pig is quite interesting. The filling inside is really flavorful, the duck must have been roasted beforehand, the pigeon meat brushed with honey, and when mixed with the pork, there’s even a hint of date flavoryou can taste. Wonderful!” one guest praised.

“It must be an old technique to stuff the dates inside the pig’s belly during the initial roasting before filling it with the other ingredients,” Xu Cheng analyzed, “This is my first time encountering this method, and it truly has been enlightening.”

“This is my first experience too. I never imagined dates could pair so well with suckling pig. I wonder which master chef created this, as I’ve never seen this technique before,” the diner echoed.

“This is a traditional Taifeng Building method, a closely guarded family secret,” Xia Mushi said.

“Old method? Master Xia, do you mean, the owner of this place is Mrs. Li’s…” some guests knew of Xia Mushi’s past with Taifeng Building and the relationship between Jiang Huiqin and Taifeng Building.

“The property has returned to its rightful owner,” Xia Mushi said.

The guest had an epiphany.

“What do you mean ‘the property has returned to its rightful owner’?” someone nearby asked.

The diner explained the intricate relationships in a low voice to him.

“What are you all talking about over there?” Pei Shenghua asked, while happily enjoying the pork and the show.

Tong Deyan ignored him, holding his chopsticks mid-air, his eyes fixed ahead.

Pei Shenghua followed his gaze and saw five waiters, each carrying a covered clay pot, so tight that not a whiff escaped.

“Good heavens, don’t tell me it’s what I think it is?” Pei Shenghua murmured softly, “Five at once, such luxury.”

“What is it?” Zhu Chang looked up, saw the clay pots in the hands of the five servers, and paused, “It seems to be exactly what you’re thinking.”

“What is it?” the other chefs asked curiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Zhu Chang said.

The reporters’ table over there was also drawn to these five sandpots, mainly because these sandpots looked quite large. Associating them with the enormous sandpot of eight-treasure porridge served earlier, the reporters, whose livelihoods revolve around storytelling, couldn’t help but let their imaginations run wild.

“Could the last dish be porridge?” speculated a reporter working at a news website famous for storytelling.

“If it’s porridge, that would be far too perfunctory.”

“Perhaps porridge is the specialty of this restaurant. The eight-treasure porridge Mr. Xu ordered just now looked pretty good.”

“True, it makes sense to have some porridge after the roasted pig to cleanse the palate.”

The sandpots were brought to the table.

“Watan Claypot Flower Carving Chicken, please enjoy,” the waiter announced, lifting the lid.

The faces of most people present changed—from surprise and disbelief to a dawning realization, and finally to an ecstasy. Some of the less informed reporters did not understand the significance of the dish and eagerly prepared to take photos with their cameras and camcorders.

“No need to take pictures of this dish; it’s best if everyone sits down and enjoys it,” said the food magazine reporter who had spoken to Reporter Hu earlier. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of Flower Carving Chicken, and took a bite, reveling in the flavor.

“Reporter Fu, what do you mean by that? What’s special about this dish?” asked Reporter Zhu, who had previously been hospitalized with a gastric perforation and was swayed by Jiang Shoucheng’s ultimate technique, Money Strategy.

“Reporter Fu is right; just mentioning the name of the dish is sensational enough. This is the authentic flavor, no mistake about it. Everyone should sit down and enjoy the meal. I’m afraid if we miss this chance, we might never get to experience it again,” said Editor Xiao, who had contact with Jiang Shoucheng due to his elderly mother’s hospitalization but still ended up influenced by the Money Strategy. He too reached for his chopsticks, sat down, and carefully savored a piece of the Flower Carving Chicken like an ordinary diner.

The other reporters, somewhat perplexed, sat down and picked up their chopsticks. Thinking to try a piece first, then use their phones to look up what was so extraordinary about this Claypot Flower Carving Chicken that its name alone was enough to cause a sensation.

The moment the dish touched their palate, everyone forgot their previous random thoughts. Phones, data—everything was cast aside. Their minds were filled only with Flower Carving Chicken, only with the glistening golden, enticing pieces of chicken in the sandpot.

All the reporters screamed inwardly.

Holy shit, it’s really freaking delicious!

This Flower Carving Chicken is sinfully delightful!

There actually exists such a transcendent, stunning Flower Carving Chicken in the world!

Perfect balance of fat and lean, rich and tender in taste, invitingly sweet and aromatic, infused with that special fragrance. As it enters your mouth and etches into your heart, the marvelous flavor, the perfect blend of wine fragrance and chicken, the juicy delicacy, is just like Jade Plate Delicacy. Previously, the reporters didn’ t get to eat any of the dishes while they were hot. In their view, Taifeng Building was just a newly opened upscale establishment —not a big deal whether they ate there or not. But after tasting the Claypot Flower Carving Chicken, they regretted it.

Seeing the table full of half-cooled dishes, their hearts felt as chilled as the food in front of them.

Why, why did they have to miss out on the whole table of delicious food for the sake of that final panoramic shot of the feast?

What had they been doing just moments ago?

Taking photos.

Shooting the decor.

Thinking of article ideas.

Talking gossip.

The videographer Tang shed silent tears inwardly.

Reporter Hu looked at the roasted pig on the table, tears welling up before words could form.

Wait, the roasted pig, the roasted pigwasn’t cut yet; it should still be hot inside!

Reporter Hu had a moment of clarity, ecstatic, he shot up from his seat. “Does anyone here know how to carve the roasted pig?” Reporter Hu inquired. In an instant, all eyes were drawn to the roasted pig at the center of the table. Its hue was like amber, akin to genuine gold.

It looked delicious just by sight!