The Game of Life

Chapter 828 - 828 827 This is a 10000-word long

?Chapter 828: Chapter 827: This is a 10,000-word long chapter!!! Chapter 828: Chapter 827: This is a 10,000-word long chapter!!! After returning home, Jiang Feng found Wu Minqi lying on the sofa in her pajamas, applying a face mask while listening to music, with the TV playing the last week’s episode of Good Taste’s American version of the Culinary King Competition. She was taking care of her skin but didn’t forget to keep up with her competitors, which was truly touching.

Jiang Feng glanced at the TV, which showed a rather handsome guy squeezing cream on pancakes. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen this guy at the rehearsal this afternoon; obviously, he had been eliminated.

“Fengfeng, why are you back already? Have you eaten?” Wu Minqi asked, her lips pursed as she reached for the cell phone on the coffee table to check the time.

A gasp, a carp flipped over, and a face mask hastily torn off.

“I forgot to set the alarm, I over-masked by two minutes.”

Jiang Feng: ?

Although he didn’t understand how over-masking by two minutes could be a problem, he could tell that now was not the right time to discuss with Wu Minqi the feasibility of adapting the thickening technique from Eight Treasures Chestnut Fragrant Pigeon to Jiang’s Sea Cucumber Soup, a topic they had been discussing for several days.

After Wu Minqi had washed her face and completed the skincare steps that Jiang Feng didn’t quite understand, she came out of the bathroom and repeated her earlier question.

“Not yet. Master Qin hasn’t fully recovered yet and needs to eat according to the doctor’s advice, so I didn’t eat at Yonghe House. I was planning to buy a pancake at the entrance of the neighborhood when I got back, but the couple hadn’t set up their stall today,” said Jiang Feng, settling onto the sofa, not wanting to get up. “I’ll just cook some noodles for myself later.”

Wu Minqi nodded and yawned, “I don’t know why, but I felt so sleepy when I got back today. The rehearsal wasn’t much; they just had us walk across the stage a few times. Ah, so exhausting, I need to go to sleep in a bit.”

“By the way, you didn’t finish the sea cucumber soup this afternoon, so Mr. Jiang put it in the fridge for you. Also, Sun Jikai probably won’t be able to come to the shop tomorrow; his dad is coming.”

“Mr. Sun is coming?” If Wu Minqi hadn’t mentioned it, Jiang Feng might have almost forgotten about Sun Changping altogether.

“He arrived late today, and Sun Jikai has rented the one-bedroom on the first floor, which comes with a small yard. He said if his dad really can’t find anything to do, he might just garden at home,” said Wu Minqi.

Jiang Feng recalled the small yard on the first floor, which was only a few square meters, and thought that if Sun Changping really wanted to garden, he could probably only manage to plant a couple of cabbages.

“Does Mr. Sun have any plans?” Jiang Feng asked.

“I don’t know; I didn’t ask,” Wu Minqi yawned again and squinted, clearly very sleepy. “I can’t handle it anymore, I really need to sleep. Fengfeng, remember to cook the noodles later.”

With that, she rubbed her eyes and walked back to her room with a stagger so tired and dazed.

Deprived of the chance to chat with his girlfriend, Jiang Feng slouched on the sofa and found the TV show uninteresting: a food program featuring Michelin-starred chefs competing as contestants, and nobody even said “shit” — what was the point of the show then?

No wonder American viewers slammed the U.S. version with negative reviews; how could fans accustomed to Chef Arno tolerate these chefs who lacked culinary finesse and couldn’t even curse properly?

Jiang Feng listlessly played with his phone for a while, finding it boring as well. Wang Hao hadn’t posted on social media for three days already, apparently life had smoothed out his quirky edges. He occasionally posted, but only soulless statuses mandated by his company. Now successful, he didn’t need to find inspiration working weekends at Taifeng Building anymore; he had paid off all his dad’s debts, his hair was thinning, his belly growing – he really looked the part of a successful man.

Jiang Feng sent Wang Hao a message, but Wang Hao didn’t reply instantly, which made Jiang Feng sadly ponder whether he had truly lost this wayward friend.

Jiang Feng lay down on the sofa.

Jiang Feng turned over.

Jiang Feng turned over again.

So boring.

The TV wasn’t interesting, the phone wasn’t fun, there was no one to talk to, he didn’t have enough ingredients in the kitchen to cook, he had watched all cooking videos countless times, and the backtracking function CD cooling period hadn’t ended yet.

So boring!

Finally, Jiang Feng opened the property panel and scrolled to the item bar to study the only two memories he hadn’t yet looked at.

[A memory of Ouyang Yang]
[A memory of Han Guishan]
Jiang Feng already had a decision in mind about these two memories. He reached out to click on “A memory of Han Guishan” and confirmed his choice.

A sea of fog.

The memory of Han Guishan always seemed to be filled with a strong sense of the era. The last time Jiang Feng entered Han Guishan’s memory, he saw the train station in Shu province in 1987 and also encountered Jiang Weiming and Wang Jing from 1987.

This time, he saw Han Guishan and Wang Jing from 1990.

As soon as the fog cleared, Jiang Feng saw Han Guishan dragging a huge sack and holding an old, wrinkled newspaper. Beside him was Wang Jing, also dragging a slightly smaller sack and carrying a large backpack, her skin darkened and roughened by the sun, losing the fair and beautiful appearance she once had as a waitress at a state-owned restaurant.

“Han, weren’t we supposed to go to your place? Why did we get off here?” It was midsummer, the sun blazing overhead. Wang Jing, burdened with so much, was already sweating profusely, her relatively new cotton white shirt almost soaked with sweat.

“Getting to my place still requires a half-day’s ride, and after getting off the train, we’d still need to transfer to a shuttle bus. We can catch a shuttle bus from here as well; it just takes a bit longer. Let’s have a meal here and rest in an inn for a day. We’ve been on the train for two days. If we keep going, we’ll break down,” said Han Guishan, looking at his newspaper from left to right, unclear about what he was searching for.

Wang Jing wiped the sweat from her forehead and was somewhat speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or to get angry, “What’s the big deal about spending two days on a train? A couple of years ago, we spent two days on a donkey cart transporting goods. You drag all this stuff around and don’t you find it too tiring?”

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