Gourmet: The Master Chef Just Wants to Leisurely Set Up a Stall - Chapter 53

At the same time, Wen Jin’s daughter and his second brother’s son also saw the family group chat. At first, they were tempted to ask for the address after seeing Yunyun’s mouth-watering photos, but Wen Jin’s barrage of scolding messages stopped them from saying anything.

Wen Yulan, just finishing up her overtime work, opened her phone and saw over a dozen unread messages in the family group chat.

The first three were from her beloved daughter, Yunyun. As she clicked on the pictures, she was greeted by glossy duck legs, golden crispy pork, and vibrant red tenderloin.

During yesterday’s video call, she had heard her father mention that Zhao Xiaojing would be visiting their home. Seeing the food’s presentation, she immediately knew the younger girl had made it. Unconsciously, Wen Yulan swallowed her saliva.

Her daughter was already back home enjoying the feast, while she was still slogging away in Jiangcheng.

Should I take some annual leave and go back?

Wen Yulan was about to reply with a compliment, but as she scrolled down, she saw her youngest brother’s angry rants flooding the chat.

With a sigh, she massaged her temples.

Forget it, better not to praise anything right now—just pretend I didn’t see it. A few fried snacks had once again triggered her Lin Daiyu-like brother.

Wen Yulan decided to call Yunyun directly via video.

“Mom, you’re done with work!”

Yunyun answered, propping the phone against the fruit basket so it framed both of her grandparents.

“Where’s Xiaojing?” Wen Yulan asked, peeking into the frame.

“She left already. It’s getting late, and she has to wake up at four tomorrow!”

Grandma Fan chimed in.

“Oh, right. I wanted to chat with her for a bit.”

“Mom, you have no idea how delicious Jingjing’s food is! I ate one-and-a-half plates all by myself. I’ve never had fried food this good before! When are you coming home? There’s still a huge batch in the fridge.”

“You’re happily eating away, but your little uncle is fuming because of the photos you posted in the group.”

“He deserves it for calling you fat! It’s payback!” Yunyun said nonchalantly.

“He’s mad again? Mad about what?” Grandma Fan turned to ask Yunyun.

“He’s mad that you’re eating junk food,” Wen Yulan explained with a helpless tone.

“He’s always upset about something. As long as he doesn’t call me to preach in my ear, let him be!” Grandpa Wen grumbled irritably.

All four burst into laughter, chatting warmly afterward.

Meanwhile, Zhao Xiaojing had returned home and started responding to the new messages in the fried skewer order group she’d created earlier.

There were now nine people in the group, led by Li Donglai, with the others being curious passersby who had joined for fun.

When she opened the chat, there were already dozens of messages, most of them asking about the types of skewers and prices. Li Donglai had already helpfully informed everyone that only duck legs, pork tenderloin, and crispy pork were available, and they were waiting on her to set the prices.

After calculating the costs, Zhao Xiaojing settled on reasonable prices.

Crispy pork and tenderloin would sell for 30 yuan per pound, and duck legs would go for 9 yuan each. The profit margin wasn’t huge, but since these were semi-finished products and not part of her regular stall setup, it was fair enough.

Li Donglai, who had been eagerly watching the chat, immediately started a relay order as soon as Zhao Xiaojing posted the prices.

“1. Ziqi Donglai: 20 duck legs, 1 pound of crispy pork, 1 pound of tenderloin.”

He then transferred 240 yuan right away.

“Boss, can I order half a pound to try it out?”

“Boss, can I just get one duck leg?”

“Boss, can I combine half a pound of crispy pork and tenderloin?”

Other customers, mainly those who hadn’t tried her food before, began asking questions.

Zhao Xiaojing responded affirmatively to all of them. After all, she was mostly doing this because of Li Donglai’s persistence—the other customers could buy as much or as little as they liked.

“2. Yuanshan Daiying: One duck leg, half a pound of tenderloin.”

Another customer followed suit with a 24-yuan transfer.

Seeing that there were no further questions, Zhao Xiaojing put down her phone and began her routine practice for the night.

Holding the pot… practicing flipping…

An hour passed, leaving Zhao Xiaojing drenched in sweat once again.

Today, she managed to hold the five-kilogram sand-filled pot for one minute and twenty-three seconds—an improvement that left her feeling accomplished.

After a shower, she checked the group again. Four out of the nine members had placed orders, all paying in full upfront.

Altogether, she now had an order for thirty duck legs—about a full box. That meant heading to the wholesale market was feasible. However, since poultry wholesalers didn’t sell pork, she would need to make a detour to the wet market for pork and seasonings—it was going to be a bit of a hassle.

Oh well, if it takes extra effort, so be it. First the wet market, then the wholesale market, then off to work.

Money doesn’t make itself!

Zhao Xiaojing set her alarm half an hour earlier than usual.

Just as she turned off the lights and prepared for bed, her phone lit up beside her pillow.

It was her mother Dong Yuhua’s old phone.

Since Dong Yuhua passed away three years ago, Zhao Xiaojing had kept her mother’s phone, never canceling the number or using it herself.

The phone remained as it had been on the day her mother died—a black photo accidentally taken in the dark, oversized fonts for easier reading, and a messy arrangement of apps on the home screen.

Zhao Xiaojing didn’t want to change anything. She tried to preserve whatever fragments of her mother’s memory she could, occasionally opening the phone just to look at it.

Even though some of her mother’s WeChat contacts had silently deleted her over the years, and the inbox was flooded with spam messages, Zhao Xiaojing still looked through everything as if searching for traces of her mother’s presence.

Unlocking the phone, she noticed a new notification on WeChat.

In “Third Sister”’s chat thread, there were six new message alerts.

It was from Dong Mei. Zhao Xiaojing felt a pang in her heart. Despite their recent arguments, Dong Mei was the only other person who remembered her mother as vividly as she did.

Feeling a growing sense of sadness, Zhao Xiaojing opened the chat.

“Today’s the fifteenth. It’s just me here. Sister, I miss you so much.”

“Wherever I see your shadow, I’m always thinking of you. Little sister misses you.”

“Your passing has been my greatest pain in these past two years. Both you and Dad are gone now—every day I drown in tears.”

“I really want to talk to you. I miss you both so much.”

“I live every day in your shadow. You were too cruel to leave me like this.”

“Sister, I’m sorry. I’m still dreaming.”

Zhao Xiaojing’s heart tightened as the dull ache she had tried so hard to suppress resurfaced.

Ever since Dong Yuhua passed away, Dong Mei had periodically sent messages to her late sister’s WeChat account.

Sometimes it was just a short sentence; sometimes it was a long letter.

The phone had always been with Zhao Xiaojing. Whenever it ran out of battery, she charged it immediately, ensuring that she would see all of Dong Mei’s messages. But neither of them ever mentioned it—they had carried on this silent ritual for three years.

In truth, Zhao Xiaojing didn’t remember her mother and Dong Mei communicating much before the illness.

Her mother had always been gentle and easygoing, smiling through everything. In contrast, Dong Mei was stern-faced and tight-lipped, keeping her thoughts to herself and seldom confiding in others—nor did anyone dare to confide in her.

Zhao Xiaojing had always assumed there wasn’t much deep affection between them.

It wasn’t until her mother fell gravely ill, after selling everything they owned and being shunned by distant relatives, that Dong Mei stepped forward several times to lend money and help care for her sister.

It seemed that only then did their bond grow closer. Her mother often held Dong Mei’s hand, recounting old stories and sharing her thoughts about the present. Dong Mei listened patiently and even smiled brightly at times.

It was during that period that Dong Mei confided in her sister about her suspicions that her husband, Zhou Jianye, might have another child—though she had no way of confirming it.

Zhao Xiaojing remembered how furious her mother had been at the time, cursing Zhou Jianye for being a bastard. In that moment of anger, it was as if her long-suffering mother had regained a spark of vitality.

But the very next day, her mother left this world forever.

If Mom were still alive, she wouldn’t want to see me and Auntie fighting like this, Zhao Xiaojing thought regretfully.