The Game of Life

After confirming all the ingredients, Jiang Weiguo took out two potatoes, carved a small piece of cured meat, and selected three relatively fresh green peppers. Jiang Feng guessed that he was probably going to make shredded potatoes and stir-fried green peppers with cured meat.

Eleven-year-old Jiang Weiguo’s culinary skills were not yet as good as Jiang Feng’s.

His knifework was decent, probably due to his regular practice assisting Jiang Chengde, but his fire control and seasoning were much less impressive. Jiang Feng could tell that the spicy shredded potatoes were too salty, and the potatoes weren’t very fresh, so the texture certainly wouldn’t be good.

Not to mention the stir-fried green peppers with cured meat— the cured meat itself was poorly marinated, and the green peppers were dehydrated and wrinkled, with dried-up seeds inside. One could imagine how that dish would taste.

Both dishes were simple home-cooked fare, not difficult to stir-fry. Housekeeper Wang had asked for at least three dishes and a soup, so Jiang Weiguo thought for a moment and took out the only cabbage from the cupboard.

The outer leaves of the cabbage had all wilted. Jiang Weiguo had to peel off several layers before revealing the slightly more moist inner leaves. Although not fresh, they were barely edible.

He peeled a few leaves, chopped them up, and stir-fried them.

The unappealing stir-fried cabbage was then ready to be served.

Jiang Feng thought that if it hadn’t been for Mr. Huang in first class who didn’t eat fish, his dishes wouldn’t have been so plain and simple. The river provided plenty of fish, and Jiang Feng saw at least two large buckets of fresh fish in the corner, still flapping about.

The soup was a spicy and sour soup, containing flour, wood ear mushrooms, kelp, cured meat, and the completely dehydrated cabbage leaves from earlier—all chopped up and thrown into the pot. In addition to salt, chili powder, sesame oil, and soy sauce, Jiang Feng also saw Jiang Weiguo add a small handful of spices into the mix—a hodgepodge of ingredients that was hard to discern, but the aroma was the most outstanding among the few dishes.

The soup was thick and steaming. Jiang Weiguo went out to look for Housekeeper Wang and found no one outside; then he remembered Wang’s instruction to ask for help next door, so he turned and went to the adjacent kitchen.

The neighboring kitchen was a bit larger than the one Jiang Weiguo was in, probably because it housed two large pots: one containing a thick porridge, the other a watery rice soup that was likely the staple for those in the steerage compartments three times a day.

There were two people inside, a plump auntie with a girl who looked somewhat similar to her, probably her daughter.

Upon seeing Jiang Weiguo enter, the auntie looked a bit startled, but she quickly recovered and asked with a smile, “You must be the new chef Housekeeper Wang brought in, right? Wait a moment, I haven’t finished cooking the porridge yet. I’ll come help you afterwards.”

This was the first time since their ordeal that Jiang Weiguo had encountered such a friendly stranger. His tone involuntarily softened, “No, Auntie, I’m just looking for Housekeeper Wang. I’ve finished cooking the dishes.”

Upon hearing she wouldn’t need to help, the plump auntie’s smile grew even warmer, “Wait here, I’ll go find Housekeeper Wang for you.”

Before long, the plump auntie returned with Housekeeper Wang, followed by two other people.

As the plump auntie passed by the small kitchen, she peeked inside and asked Jiang Weiguo, “Little Jiang, what have you made that smells so good?” “Nanny Li, don’t ask what you shouldn’t,” Housekeeper Wang warned sharply. Nanny Li clearly wasn’t scared of him, she rolled her eyes at him and continued to cook her porridge.

A large pot of porridge, left unattended for ten minutes, Jiang Feng guessed the bottom must have scorched by now.

The two men who came with Housekeeper Wang went to the small kitchen to fetch the dishes, while they themselves went to Nanny Li’s kitchen to serve rice. Not sure whether Housekeeper Wang was worried that Mr. Huang might vent his anger on him if Jiang Weiguo’s cooking wasn’t good or for some other reason, Wang instructed Jiang Weiguo to follow along as well.

The first-class cabins were on the third floor, guarded at the entrance. Housekeeper Wang asked Jiang Weiguo to wait outside, while he and the two dish carriers entered, with Jiang Feng curiously following behind Housekeeper Wang.

The first-class cabin was spacious, its standard akin to a presidential suite of later times, with Mr. Huang’s servants and family all inside. He sat reading a book on the sofa, and his wife was sewing buttons nearby.

“Prefect Huang, the original chef on the ship fell ill and died. We have a new one today. I’m not sure if the food will be to your taste,” Housekeeper Wang said respectfully.

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but scrutinize the official; he initially thought Housekeeper Wang was just being respectful by calling him a great person, but it turned out he really was an official. Thinking that even a prefect had abandoned his post to flee to Shanghai showed just how serious the calamity in the north must be.

Prefect Huang appeared to be in his fifties, slightly corpulent, with a beard. Only reluctantly did he glance at Housekeeper Wang after he spoke, “If he’s gone, he’s gone. The food wasn’t good anyway, no loss.”

“You’re right,” Housekeeper Wang said with an apologetic smile, tactfully retreating to the corner.

The maidservant by the lady’s side began serving the dishes. Despite the humble environment with only three dishes and a soup, and just one servant, the display was quite grand. One would think they were royalty from the extravagance of it all.

Mr. Huang first tried the stir-fried cabbage. He didn’t speak, but his expression suggested dissatisfaction. Next, he tasted the shredded potato.

“Not bad, better than the previous one,” Mr. Huang commented.

Mr. Huang clearly preferred the shredded potato, while his wife, who favored lighter flavors, had only a few bites of cabbage and rice before claiming she was full and ate no more.

Perhaps due to the shredded potatoes, or maybe because he was just a big eater, Mr. Huang ate three full bowls of rice before he stopped and signaled for the maid to bring him some soup.

The maidservant, quick on her feet, served him a small half bowl of soup and placed it steadily in front of him.

Mr. Huang took a sip.

“Where did you find this cook?” Mr. Huang asked, setting down his bowl.

“From Taifeng Building’s kitchen help,” Housekeeper Wang replied.

“What a joke, as if a kitchen helper from Taifeng Building could come all the way here to cook for you,” Mr. Huang laughed, showing emotion for the first time.

Seeing Mr. Huang laugh, Housekeeper Wang’s smile was even more exaggerated, but he spoke in a softer voice, “You have a keen eye, sir. The cook is just a teenager who probably worked at Taifeng Building for a few days and claimed to be their kitchen helper. I wonder if Mr. Huang is still satisfied with him?”

“How many more days until we reach Magic City?” Mr. Huang asked.

“Five days, at most five days.”

“He’ll do, his skills are good, reward him,” Mr. Huang gestured with his hand and the maid handed Housekeeper Wang two silver dollars.

This was considered a huge sum.

Housekeeper Wang’s face lit up with joy, and he rattled off a string of compliments at no cost, “Mr. Huang, you are truly kind and generous. I thank you on behalf of the kid. That child must have accumulated a lot of good fortune in his past life to have the opportunity to cook this meal for you today. It’s an honor for him to cook for you, and now to receive your reward—he must be so grateful that his ancestors are smiling down from heaven.”

Mr. Huang, annoyed by Housekeeper Wang’s chatter, told him to leave.

Housekeeper Wang stashed the silver dollars inside his clothes.

Jiang Weiguo still stood at the doorway, now feeling the autumn chill with just a thin garment on, having braced the river winds for nearly half an hour, his hands and feet were somewhat numb. Seeing Housekeeper Wang come out, he greeted him.

“Your cooking wasn’t bad; Mr. Huang has rewarded you,” Housekeeper Wang said, tossing him three copper coins.

Jiang Weiguo quickly caught them.

Having pocketed two silver dollars from Jiang Weiguo’s reward, Housekeeper Wang was in a good mood, and his view of Jiang Weiguo had improved considerably, “You go to Nanny Li’s kitchen later to eat, have as much congee as you like, I’ll add another white flour bun for you, making it four. You can stay in the kitchen during the day, and don’t worry about your stuff being stolen at night, I’ll back you up.”

“Thank you, Housekeeper Wang,” Jiang Weiguo hastily replied, although with his build, he wasn’t worried the scrawny lot back in the cabin could actually rob him.

Housekeeper Wang, pleased with his tact, nodded with satisfaction and walked away.

Jiang Weiguo hastened towards the kitchen.