The Game of Life-Chapter 830 - 829 Crazy
Chapter 830: Chapter 829: Crazy
Chapter 830 -829: Crazy
Extremely rare for Jiang Feng, his first reaction after leaving the memory was not to open his attribute panel to check the latest recipes acquired, but rather to silently lie back on the sofa.
Before he entered the memory, he was lying on the sofa, and naturally, he remained lying there after leaving the memory. Cao Guixiang’s cornstarch thickening was ordinary, simple, and universally in harmony, which gave Jiang Feng an indescribable inspiration, even while he was later looking at dog food, his mind was still picturing Cao Guixiang thickening the broth for lean meat soup.
It was the simplest thickening that anyone familiar with the process could achieve, yet it was not so simple.
It wasn’t something that high culinary skills and proficiency could achieve alone, Jiang Feng could clearly feel that Cao Guixiang’s method of thickening was different from everyone else’s.
Hers was more in tune.
It wasn’t just embellishing, but blending into the whole dish, inseparable from the other steps.
Cao Guixiang’s thickening must have had some superior aspects, something extraordinary.
Jiang Feng felt as if he had grasped it, yet he hadn’t.
A wonderful inspiration had already drilled into his mind, leading him to discover, touch, and learn, yet he didn’t know where to start.
Everyone knows that inspiration is like a fleeting beam of light, like a meteor falling through the night sky—bright, yet brief. If you don’t catch it in time, it will slip away, and you won’t even catch its tail.
Jiang Feng felt like he had caught the tail of inspiration, but he wanted more.
Just a little more, just a tiny bit more.
In tune, harmonious.
Why was it so simple?
Jiang Feng sat up from the sofa, crossing his legs, resembling a meditating monk from the back, motionless. If you looked at him from the front, you would see his eyes appeared somewhat vacant, occasionally showing a bit of confusion and perplexity, as if he was daydreaming or pondering, like a martial artist in a wuxia novel at the brink of a breakthrough or madness during critical meditation—success meant mastery, failure meant losing oneself.
Suddenly, Jiang Feng sprang up from the sofa, rushed to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and quickly found the strips of meat left over from the day before yesterday.
A bowl of meat strips, half a carrot, and a small bag of frozen corn kernels were more than enough for a pot of lean meat soup.
Carrots chopped, ingredients added to the pot in sequence, it only took over 10 minutes to reach the point of thickening. The water with dissolved starch was already prepared, just waiting for the right moment to start the thickening process.
As he poured the starch water clockwise along the edge of the pot, Jiang Feng immediately knew it was not right.
He had habitually copied Cao Guixiang’s thickening steps entirely.
It wasn’t that mimicking was bad. During this period of learning, Jiang Feng realized that imitation was a part of learning, and in the absence of full comprehension, imitation was the quickest way to learn. But the last step, turning the imitation into one’s own, was both the most crucial and the most difficult.
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The imitation itself was not wrong; the feeling was just not right.
The moment the starch water entered the pot, Jiang Feng knew it wasn’t right.
The steps looked identical, the movements looked identical, even the cornstarch water looked identical at first glance, but it just wasn’t right.
Completely wrong!
This wasn’t the tail he had caught.
Decisively abandoning that pot, Jiang Feng started on the second pot.
The third pot.
The fourth pot.
…
Until in the refrigerator, all the ingredients suitable for soup were used up, and he still hadn’t found the tail he had caught in his memory.
He knew the feeling was still there, he just hadn’t found it yet.
He still had a chance.
He had to seize this opportunity, catch this fleeting tail of inspiration.
Though there were no ingredients left at home, his great-aunt’s house still had some, being such a calorie counting expert, Jiang Jianguo’s home was never short of various ingredients. Although Wu Minqi was probably already deep in sleep by now, it was still early, not even 9 p.m. yet.
Jiang Feng hurried downstairs and knocked on Jiang Jianguo’s door; Jiang Jianguo and the great aunt were both home, even Jiang Zaide was there, sitting on the sofa, happily eating a banana and watching TV.
“Great uncle, we’ve run out of ingredients at home, I’ve come to borrow some,” Jiang Feng said, heading straight for the refrigerator as soon as he entered.
“Take whatever you need,” Jiang Jianguo said cheerfully.
Then Jiang Feng emptied almost half of the refrigerator, carrying large and small bags.
Roughly estimating, he walked away with at least 30 pounds of ingredients.
Jiang Jianguo: ?
Jiang Zaide: ???
“Is my little brother hosting a party at home tonight?” Jiang Zaide was baffled.
Carrying over 30 kilograms of vegetables and meat wasn’t a big deal, but having to use them late at night left people puzzled.
“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Jiang Jianguo also couldn’t figure it out.
Jiang Feng used the vegetables and meat borrowed from Jiang Jianguo’s house to practice making various soups and broths.
There were no fixed combinations of ingredients, he cooked whatever he saw, the only thing they had in common was that they were simple and quick, taking only a few minutes to a dozen minutes to cook, certainly not wasting any time.
Time and time again, thickening the sauce, Jiang Feng felt he was getting closer to that feeling in his heart.
The thickening made the soups more and more harmonious.
Jiang Feng felt he was about to grasp that elusive tail.
The next day, before dawn, Wu Minqi woke up.
Going to bed too early meant waking up early, but correspondingly, going to bed early made her very spirited, clear-headed, and even energetic. Wu Minqi woke up, glanced at the still-dark outside, and then at her phone which showed it was just after 4 AM, and decided to get up, do some light exercise in the living room, take a shower, and then go to the kitchen to make some Xiaomi porridge.
Drinking a bowl of hot Xiaomi porridge on a winter morning was nothing short of comforting.
As soon as she left her room, Wu Minqi realized something was off.
There was a noise in the living room.
And light.
Someone!
A thief had entered the house!
Wu Minqi instantly became alert, grabbing a wooden stick inexplicably left in the bathroom, and tiptoed toward the living room, not even considering the second possibility: that Jiang Feng had spent the whole night in the kitchen diligently practicing his sauce thickening.
Then, Wu Minqi saw Jiang Feng, who had not slept all night, his face greasy, his hair oily and clumped together, his sleeves stained with many spots from who knows when, looking extremely unkempt.
And a messy kitchen.
It was truly a mess; Wu Minqi couldn’t believe this was actually her kitchen when she first saw it.
Dirty, disordered, poor—these three words were vividly illustrated in the kitchen at this moment.
Cooking utensils were haphazardly arranged, pots and bowls everywhere, even on the floor with soup in them. The living room’s garbage can was also in the kitchen, stuffed with kitchen waste, and the sink was filled with many visibly cooked ingredients that had not been cleaned, with soup and water stains all over the kitchen counter.
At this scene, Wu Minqi couldn’t help but blurt out while holding the wooden stick.
“My Fengfeng has finally gone mad.”
Wait, why did she use the word “finally”?
This sentence was Wu Minqi’s murmur; Jiang Feng didn’t hear it. He hadn’t even noticed Wu Minqi standing behind him with a stick, he just knew he was closer to that feeling he was trying to grasp.
With each soup he made, he felt one step closer.
He didn’t know how many steps he had taken but still hadn’t touched it.
So he could only keep making it, over and over, bowl after bowl, racing against the clock for fear of missing the time, pouring out the contents of full pots and bowls because there was no time to clean up. It took an average of 10 minutes to make a pot of soup; Jiang Feng had hardly stopped throughout the night, which is why the kitchen ended up like this.
“Fengfeng!” Wu Minqi yelled, finally getting Jiang Feng’s attention to stop him from chopping carrots and turn to her.
“You didn’t sleep all night, did you?”
Even though Jiang Feng had made the kitchen look like a disaster, what Wu Minqi cared about most was whether he had slept at night.
“I’m not sleepy, Minqi. I think I’m almost getting the hang of thickening sauces. Just a bit more, just a tiny bit more! Don’t talk to me right now, let me keep on catching that feeling, I’m really close now.” After saying that, Jiang Feng continued chopping the carrots.
Wu Minqi fell silent, deciding not to talk anymore and disturb Jiang Feng, letting him continue chopping vegetables as she gently began to clean up the mess.
After mostly tidying up, Wu Minqi sat on a chair by the dining table, sitting sideways watching Jiang Feng make soups in the kitchen.
Over and over again, bowl after bowl.
For every bowl he finished, it was like a bowl Jiang Feng cleaned up.
Until daylight came.
…
The ingredients borrowed from Jiang Jianguo’s house were completely used up. Jiang Feng, who had stayed up all night with a head full of oil, was incredibly tired. Even though he was still somewhat excited, his body was really reaching its limits, with every cell from his hands to his feet madly shouting at his brain, “You idiot, go to sleep now.”
Upon Wu Minqi’s persuasion, Jiang Feng decided to stop, take a shower, and sleep, as by this point, the inspiration was seemingly in his grasp and unlikely to escape.
After Jiang Feng went to take a shower and sleep, Wu Minqi continued cleaning up the kitchen.
After cleaning the kitchen, Wu Minqi took out her phone and sent the same message to Jiang Weiming and Jiang Weiguo respectively.
Wu Minqi: Grandpa Jiang, I think Jiang Feng is about to achieve Enlightenment.
