Chapter 748: Chapter 748 Chopsticks
The reason why the na Jiang Chengren ca to be associated with the God of Wealth was largely because, for the people, food is paramount.
Having opened a myriad of hotels and restaurants all over the country, hadn’t he beco the God of Wealth in the eyes of others?
However, nobody knew the simple reason Jiang Chengren had initially chosen this line of business when he started out.
His wife, you see, couldn’t cook.
In those days, a woman who couldn’t cook was rarer than a panda, as they’re typically taught from a young age that n should be in charge outside the ho, while won should take care of dostic matters like cooking.
But Fu Ting seed to have an aversion to the kitchen, her dishes a ss even when she followed recipes to a T.
She could be considered a leader in the dark cuisine circle.
After newlywed bliss turned into three straight days of eating his wife’s cooking, the outhouse beca Jiang Chengren’s permanent residence.
For the sake of his life, Jiang Chengren decided to open a restaurant.
Sotis, the first pot of gold for a big shot cos in the most incredible ways.
The very thought of his wife cooking set off alarm bells in Jiang Chengren’s heart.
Yesterday they agreed to earn brownie points for the son, but if Fu Ting cooked today, ten horses wouldn’t be able to drag his daughter-in-law back.
Jiang Chengren hurriedly said with a laugh, “Didn’t we agree? Son goes to pick up the guests, and we have the hotel deliver the food to our ho.”
Fu Ting argued confidently, “I thought about it and felt that it would seem insincere. It would be better for to cook personally.”
Could that turn out well?
Jiang Chengren worried his son might end up single because of his wife’s culinary mishaps and tried to find ways to dissuade her, yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to say the words “not tasty.”
Forget it, best to have a backup plan.
Jiang Chengren had no choice but to let his wife cook while making another call to the restaurant to repeat his order.
If things went south, at least they’d have a fallback option here.
When Yue Qingqing entered the Jiang family ho, the first thing she noticed was an odd sll.
Hard to describe, it was like sothing had been charred, then various random things were added to mask the odor.
Spicy, salty, sour.
Just the sll alone was enough to make one swallow hard, invoking a sense of fear.
“Qingqing’s here, co on in and have a seat.”
Fu Ting, wearing an apron and with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, erged from the kitchen, her deanor exuding warmth.
If—
One could overlook what she was holding in her hand, sothing charred and barely recognizable as a dish.
Jiang Chengren followed behind her to the door, drenched in sweat to the point of almost soaking his clothes.
He hadn’t expected Jiang Jingze to return this quickly with his girlfriend, and the dishes from the hotel hadn’t arrived yet.
So, Yue Qingqing was treated to a table full of dishes that required considerable imagination.
Spinach and oranges were stir-fried together, topped with a layer of corn kernels.
Ribs were wrapped in strawberries, their blood-red appearance mimicking a murder scene’s splashed blood plasma.
A dead hen lay in the dish, half raw, its drooping head seeming to protest against this ssed-up world.
Yue Qingqing was stunned; in her past life combined with this one, she had never seen such a spectacle.
Even Jiang Jingze, who wouldn’t bat an eyelid if the world turned upside down, was stunned for a mont, his gaze fixated on the table of ingredients that could rightly be called a waste.
Under Fu Ting’s oblivious and eager smile, Yue Qingqing washed her hands and sat down at the dining table.
Jiang Chengren cleared his throat awkwardly and suggested, “Um, let’s wait to eat, shall we? The food from the hotel hasn’t arrived yet.”
Fu Ting, like many masters of dark cuisine, was blissfully unaware of the marvel she had created.
She stubbornly believed that the dishes just looked a bit odd and that the taste couldn’t be that bad.
After all—it’s food, right?
“Qingqing, try so and see how it tastes?”
Yue Qingqing braced herself and picked up her chopsticks, aware of Fu Ting’s eager anticipation.
She might as well take a bite.
No matter what, she wanted to appreciate her aunt’s kind gesture.
Yue Qingqing had heard from Jiang Jingze that Fu Ting hardly ever cooked, not even for Jiang Chengren, except during the first week of their marriage.
Her willingness to cook today must surely be to show her welco.
Qingqing too wanted to express her gratitude to her aunt, and regardless, she had to try a few bites.
Yue Qingqing took a deep breath, her chopsticks hesitantly reaching toward what looked like the only normal dish, a crab.
Until—
The crab clamped onto her chopsticks.
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