The Game of Life

An Ling led Jiang Feng to the entrance of the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant. The door was not closed, but the signboard read:

“The owner is out for personal matters at noon and will not be open for business.”

The characters were crooked and skewed, clearly handwritten by Mr. Jiang Jiankang.

“Oh, it’s closed,” An Ling said with a hint of disappointment, turning to Jiang Feng, “I’m sorry, Senior Jiang Feng, this restaurant is closed. If we meet again in the next competition, I’ll bring you here to eat.”

“What did you want to eat?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Spicy pork stir-fry!” An Ling replied, “I’m telling you, Senior Jiang Feng, their stir-fried pork is really delicious! All the meat dishes here are amazing. Last semester, when our dorm came here for a meal, their sweet and sour pork fillet and Kung Pao chicken were the best I’ve ever had!”

“Do you like sweets?” Jiang Feng inquired.

“Not really, I like both sweet and spicy, as long as the dish isn’t too salty,” An Ling thought for a moment before adding, “I like all kinds of meat, actually. Never mind, Senior Jiang Feng, let’s go to the Northeast dumpling restaurant up ahead. Their mushroom and chicken stuffed dumplings are also not bad.”

Had An Ling desired a large dish or something that was Jiang Jiankang’s specialty like Kung Pao chicken, Jiang Feng probably would have been helpless. But spicy pork stir-fry was manageable. The door was unlocked, and Jiang Feng could see Ji Yue at the counter working on a tablet to meet a deadline. He pushed the door and walked in.

“It’s okay, come on in, this is my family’s restaurant,” Jiang Feng said.

An Ling was shocked.

“Oh, Jiang Feng, you’re back! How was the competition?” Ji Yue greeted him, and upon seeing An Ling at the door, she told her, “I’m sorry, classmate, the owner is out today, and we are not open at noon. You can come back in the evening.”

“She was sitting behind me in today’s competition and is also from our school. She just wants a plate of spicy pork stir-fry, which I can cook,” Jiang Feng said.

An Ling stepped inside, her face still in disbelief, thinking she had somehow made the ridiculous mistake of leading Jiang Feng to his own family restaurant. Feeling somewhat embarrassed and with a flushed face, she said to Ji Yue, “Hello, senior, my name is An Ling, a freshman from the foreign languages department.”

“Hello there, my name is Ji Yue, and I’m from the fine arts department,” declared Ji Yue, who was already a graduated and somewhat past-her-prime senior.

“Oh, right, Jiang Feng.” Ji Yue stopped Jiang Feng as he was about to head to the kitchen, “Your grandfather came by at around eight and asked me to tell you to make 10 plates of… something for Sweet and Sour Yam using some kind of, you know, sugar oil or something. Ah, what’s that oil thing called?”

“Bottom sediment sugar oil?” Jiang Feng suggested.

“Yes, yes, that’s the one,” affirmed Ji Yue. “Hmm, your grandfather said to take a picture and record a video for each plate you finish and send it to him on WeChat. Oh, and I want Eight Treasure Tofu.”

As a seasoned tofu lover who had become addicted to Eight Treasure Tofu ever since discovering that Jiang Feng had learned to make it during the winter break, Ji Yue had been indulging in it for seven straight days.

Although Jiang Jiankang and his wife were dining at the Imperial Meal Room, they had prepared everything that needed washing and prepping before leaving. An Ling wanted spicy pork stir-fry, Ji Yue wanted Eight Treasure Tofu, and he decided to make another dish, minced pork with eggplant. The rice could be cooked now, and everything would be ready in half an hour.

Jiang Feng went out to inform An Ling, who had no objections, her eyes ceaselessly glancing towards the liquor cabinet.

Jiang Feng was already busy in the kitchen. The menu didn’t list prices for drinks, so An Ling estimated her New Year’s money and living expenses before asking, “Excuse me, Senior Ji Yue, how much for a bottle of that 53-degree Erguotou on the counter?”

Ji Yue looked up, somewhat surprised. She wouldn’t have pegged An Ling, who seemed meek and demure, as someone who enjoyed drinking strong liquor, and replied, “Ten yuan a cup.”

You see, in restaurants, alcohol is always marked up heavily. However, because it was located near a school, white liquor didn’t sell much, and the Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant usually sold it by the cup. As Alan City was in the south, the male students coming in for meals would be nearly down for the count after just one cup of Erguotou.

“And for a bottle?” An Ling asked.

Ji Yue was even more astonished and reminded her, “A bottle is one jin.”

“I know,” An Ling said.

Ji Yue had never sold it by the bottle before, so she made a call to Wang Xiulian and then told An Ling the price, “98.”

So expensive!

An Ling exclaimed inwardly. Her family was in the brewing business, and almost all the households in her area made a living from brewing. She grew up drinking high-proof spirits, and to use her brother’s words, she was practically raised in a vat of liquor. The supermarkets around her school sold baijiu, including bottled Erguotou, but not only was it expensive, the quality was extremely poor.

If it wasn’t for the New Year money she had received, she’d never be willing to spend 98 yuan on a bottle of liquor; back home, a jin of bulk baijiu cost just over ten yuan.

An Ling paid the money, and Ji Yue opened the bottle and gave her a cup, not forgetting to caution her, “This is 53-degree Erguotou, so take it easy.”

Although Wang Xiulian was quite ruthless in pricing, she was conscientious when it came to selecting liquor; the beer and baijiu the shop sold had all been tasted by her and found to be acceptable, with none of the flavors being bad.

An Ling poured herself a large half-cup and began to drink slowly. There were many distilleries in her area and the competition was fierce; those that had survived up to now all produced liquor of excellent quality. The bottle in front of her was better than most of the Erguotou on the market, but it was nothing compared to the liquor from her home distilleries.

For some reason, An Ling found this particular bottle exceptionally delightful to drink.

Possibly because of the 98-yuan price tag empowering it.

By the time Jiang Feng called Ji Yue into the kitchen to help serve dishes and rice, An Ling had drunk more than half the bottle.

No flushed face, no dizzy head, eyes clear, and her speech was articulate; she could even walk in a straight line.

An Ling took the plate of dishes and the bowl of rice, trying a bite of meat first.

Tender, full-flavored, and very spicy.

“Ji Yue, can you open another bottle for me?” An Ling excitedly said.

She was genuinely happy today. She had signed up on a whim to participate in the preliminary round, even burned the dish she was cooking, but unexpectedly still advanced to the next stage. She had planned to buy a dozen or so beers to drink slowly back at the dorm that night, but on a whim, she had wanted to drink white liquor instead.

Since she had started drinking, she wanted to drink to her heart’s content.

“She drank that whole half bottle just now?” Jiang Feng was astonished.

“Seems…seems like it.” Ji Yue was seeing such a heavy-drinking girl for the first time. Drinking half a jin of baijiu was nothing special, but An Ling had done so and still seemed completely fine, her capacity for alcohol was simply terrifying.

With just one plate of spicy stir-fried pork and a bowl of rice, An Ling had downed two jin of baijiu.

An Ling stood up, and Jiang Feng and Ji Yue watched her nervously, fearing she would collapse in the next second.

The situation they were worried about did not occur; An Ling left as she had come, with only a slight flush on her cheeks, after paying for the meal.

Jiang Feng and Ji Yue exchanged glances and exclaimed in unison, “She sure can drink!”