The Game of Life

Chapter 320: Chapter 319: Your Confession Letter is on Me (Five Updates for Monthly Pass!) (Extra update for Alliance Hierarch, Lord Poison!)

Jiang Feng returned to Taifeng Building not only with sweet osmanthus sugar but also carried a jar of chicken soup.

He planned to make “copy hands,” the same kind that Wu Minqi had made for him before. In recent nights, with nothing to do at home and no desire to watch TV dramas, Wu Minqi taught him how to wrap “copy hands.”

Don’t ask why the couple, in the heat of love, would spend their nights in the kitchen making “copy hands” instead of doing something else. If you ask, it’s all about harmony.

When it comes to chefs, cooking is a passion.

Armed with sweet osmanthus sugar and chicken soup, Jiang Feng returned to Benevolent Doctor and went straight to the small kitchen after buying the necessary ingredients at the mini-market inside.

Comrade Qian Lijuan was still battling on the front lines of soup cooking.

This time, she was making yam and pork rib soup. Jiang Feng’s teaching had paid off; before boiling the soup, Qian Lijuan blanched the ribs. There was no foam in the soup, it wasn’t murky, and it looked perfectly normal.

The only flaw was that the yams were cut too large.

It was Jiang Feng’s first time seeing yam pieces over seven centimeters long in a soup.

“Jiang, come and see how well Mrs. Qian’s yam and pork rib soup turned out!” Qian Lijuan was very excited to see Jiang Feng.

Upon a careful inspection, Jiang Feng found no other issues besides the yams and gently said, “Mrs. Qian, the yams are cut too big. Do you remember the method I showed you for cutting carrots when you made the carrot and beef stew? You should cut the yams the same way, into roll-cut chunks.”

Mrs. Qian took out her notebook to jot down notes.

“Mrs. Qian, how is your husband recovering now?” With that, Jiang Feng started washing rice to make eight-treasure porridge, while also inquiring about Zhuang Lin’s health.

“He’s doing well, recovering very quickly. He can even walk on the floor now, and the doctors say if his recovery goes well, he could be discharged in two weeks!” Mrs. Qian’s face was filled with joy that she couldn’t hide.

“Old Qin in the next bed is also recovering well. He’s the father of the young girl who asked you about cooking tips a while back. His condition is a bit like my Old Zhuang’s—gotten worse due to post-operative infection. But Old Qin is lucky and, like my husband, is now recovering nicely. Oh, by the way, Jiang, will you be coming to the hospital tomorrow?” Mrs. Qian asked.

“What’s up?”

“A couple of days ago, Weiwei wanted to cook a couple of homemade dishes for Old Qin—Weiwei is Old Qin’s daughter. But you weren’t here, and you know the level of our cooking—we can’t even stew soup properly, let alone stir-fry. Tomorrow is the weekend, and Weiwei is free, so she asked me to check if you’ll be at Benevolent Doctor tomorrow; she wants you to teach her,” Mrs. Qian explained.

“Of course, I’ve got time. My big cousin is hospitalized, and for these couple of days, I have to come take care of him and cook for him.” There and then, Jiang Feng decided to have Jiang Zaide hospitalized.

“Hospitalized? That does sound serious. What happened to your big cousin?” Mrs. Qian asked with concern.

“He’s been working too hard, overworking until he got sick,” Jiang Feng said.

“Oh dear, he really needs to get well nourished. Just in time, I’ve stewed yam and pork rib soup—it’s nourishing. Why don’t I serve a couple of bowls for your big cousin to take with you?” Mrs. Qian, as always, was full of enthusiasm.

Jiang Feng: …

“No need, my big cousin is picky and doesn’t eat yams.” Jiang Feng declined politely.

Zaide had already been miserable enough in the hospital getting IV drips, so there was no need to torment him with yam and pork rib soup.

When it came to cooking porridge, Jiang Feng possessed unparalleled skill, and even more so when it came to eight-treasure porridge, which he was most adept at.

After putting the eight-treasure porridge on the stove, Jiang Feng started kneading the dough. Then, as he minced the filling, he carefully removed any tendons and pounded the minced meat with the back of the knife until it turned into a fine paste.

Meanwhile, Fang Zhuoyue floated into the small kitchen with a look of distress, as Jiang Feng was pounding the meat fillings with resounding DuangDuangDuang.

It was clear that he had something on his mind.

Fang Zhuoyue began to wash the rice and, like usual, started to cook white porridge.

His level in cooking white porridge had now vastly improved; at least it was not burned anymore.

He seemed absent-minded throughout.

“Fang, what’s wrong? Are you facing some sort of difficulties?” Mrs. Qian asked with concern.

“Nothing, just some problems with my studies. I’m pondering over some problem-solving strategies,” Fang Zhuoyue lied, opting not to come up with a more convincing lie, and Jiang Feng could tell he was not being truthful.

Mrs. Qian was actually fooled by Fang Zhuoyue’s tall tale.

Several more people came into the small kitchen in succession, and Jiang Feng managed to advance two more missions before starting to make “copy hands.”

By the time Jiang Feng began making “copy hands,” Mrs. Qian’s yam and pork rib soup was ready and successfully taken off the stove.

“Jiang, are you sure you don’t want Mrs. Qian to serve you a bowl before you go?” Mrs. Qian still remembered to ask before leaving.

“No need, Mrs. Qian. See, I already have chicken soup, which is also good for the body,” Jiang Feng said, his face wearing a dutiful smile.

Mrs. Qian carried the yam and pork ribs soup away.

“Jiang Feng, have you ever had someone you liked?” As soon as Mrs. Qian left, Fang Zhuoyue spoke up, obviously having held onto the words for a long time.

Jiang Feng: ???

Do I really look that much like a single dog?

“I have a girlfriend,” Jiang Feng said.

Fang Zhuoyue was startled, momentarily at a loss for words.

“What, you have a girl you like and want to confess to but don’t know how to do it?” Jiang Feng asked, flashing a matchmaker’s grin reminiscent of Pei Shenghua.

Fang Zhuoyue nodded.

The smile on Jiang Feng’s face deepened.

Because recently Fang Zhuoyue would run into Jiang Feng whenever he was in the small kitchen, and the two, being science students from prestigious schools, often chatted together. They had come to understand each other to some extent and could be considered friends.

Fang Zhuoyue was willing to discuss this matter with Jiang Feng because Jiang was his friend and was not involved in his life.

There were some things he didn’t want to talk about with the people around him.

“There’s a girl I’ve liked for a long time; she was my junior high classmate.”

Just by hearing this beginning, Jiang Feng became interested—aha, puppy love.

“Back then, we were desk mates and got along quite well. At that time, I hadn’t started studying in Beiping yet. Later, in high school, we were in the same school but not the same class. By the time I realized I kind of liked her, it was already high school. Not long after, I transferred to Beiping, and we had even less interaction, only seeing each other during summer and winter vacations under the pretext of visiting old classmates.”

“In my second year of high school, I wanted to gather the courage to confess to her, but I heard from others that she already had a boyfriend.”

“Then what happened?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Then came the third year of high school, college entrance exams, and university. I was in Beiping, and she was in Guangdong Province, one south, one north, miles apart—farther than we were in high school,” Fang Zhuoyue said with a bitter smile.

“Are you two still in contact?” Jiang Feng inquired further.

“Yes, but it’s only during the summer and winter vacations when I go back. We meet as classmates, good friends catch up, go out to sing, watch movies, or dine together. She broke up with her boyfriend during her third year of high school. In the past two years, every time I met classmates, I wanted to find the opportunity to confess to her, but I never dared to say it.”

“Why?” Jiang Feng couldn’t help but reflect. If it were him—oh, there were no ‘ifs’, even though it seemed like he was the one to initiate the confession, in reality, it was Wu Minqi who had made the move towards him.

“I’m afraid it’s all one-sided, and once the words are spoken, it would become awkward. We might not even be able to meet face to face anymore,” Fang Zhuoyue sighed.

“So what’s troubling you now?” Jiang Feng was somewhat baffled.

“I’ve been quietly following her on social media. She loves posting on her feed, sharing her life. I need to see her posts every day to feel at ease.”

“But she hasn’t posted anything for two weeks now. I thought maybe she was just too busy with her studies since she is in medical school studying clinical work. Maybe she hasn’t had time to update because of her lab work with her teacher this summer. But I was still worried. So, last night, I couldn’t hold back and went to ask her how she’s been lately,” Fang Zhuoyue added.

“How is she?” Jiang Feng had completely forgotten about the dumplings he was wrapping.

“She said she’s not doing well. She said she’s been overwhelmed with various negative emotions for the past six months, emotions that are suffocating her. Two weeks ago, she saw a psychologist, who said her condition wasn’t good, that she was showing signs of depression. The psychologist advised her to rest at home, relax, and not do anything each day.”

“I want to comfort her and take care of her, but I don’t want to do it just as a friend or an old classmate. I want to do it as…” Fang Zhuoyue took a deep breath, finally speaking the thoughts that had been tucked away in his heart, “I want to take care of her as her boyfriend.”

“But I still…”

Without Fang Zhuoyue saying more, Jiang Feng knew what he was struggling with.

Plainly speaking, he simply lacked the courage to confess.

“Do you have time tonight?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Huh?”

“We’ve known each other for so long, and it seems I’ve never invited you to our place for a meal. How about tonight? Come to our restaurant, and I’ll cook you my specialty—spicy chopped fish head and vegetable chicken.” Jiang Feng smiled.

He was once a man determined to shut down all the matchmaking services in Beiping City.

Leave your confession to me.

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PS:

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