Wall Slam

Chapter 31: Wall Slam

Listen to Stephen Chow's original lines from the movie:

"The tables in the restaurant have to be as narrow as possible, the stools as small as possible. If the customer wants comfort, don't give it to them—once they finish eating, they'll get up and leave. The straws have to be as thick as possible, the ice cubes as big as possible. After one drink, they'll order a second. Are you new here? Do I really need to teach you this?"

Stephen Chow was called the God of Cookery, but his actual cooking skill was pretty average. If a Special First-Class Chef or Senior Technician represents the pinnacle of the culinary arts, then his level was probably around that of a third- or fourth-grade Intermediate Chef—not even reaching first- or second-grade Senior Chef.

His strongest skill was marketing and hype. He'd forcibly packaged himself into the God of Cookery.

The movie ended. Jiang Hao was thinking about what preparations he needed to make for this crossing. Overall, there wasn't much danger in this film—the good guys and bad guys were clear at a glance.

His task was just to go there, eat, taste the food, and collect "flavors." He still didn't know who he'd be crossing into. What if he ended up as the villain Tang Niu? Or maybe even some random extra.

In that case—

OK.

Let's begin.

"Accept mission."

"Mission: Enter the world of the movie 'God of Cookery' and collect 'Taste of Gourmet Food.' Does the collector accept the assignment?"

Jiang Hao clicked the accept button.

Whoosh~

The scene around him shifted. Jiang Hao found himself standing on a bustling, noisy street. Stalls lined both sides, all kinds of street food vendors. People were drinking and chatting loudly in Cantonese—but Jiang Hao could understand it.

A stream of information flowed into his mind. He now knew his current identity.

He was the protagonist of this movie, Stephen Chow. He walked over to a shop window and used the glass reflection to see his face. A slightly wrinkled suit. As for the face—well, yeah, that same deadpan look.

And this place was Temple Street.

He'd already been framed, gone bankrupt, had no money on him, and was drowning in debt. Starting on his knees, thrown straight into hell difficulty—this was no fun.

He bared his teeth at the glass. "No fear. The original him wasn't afraid, and I, Jiang Hao, sure as hell won't be either."

But after glancing around the noisy Temple Street, he decided to leave. Because next, he'd get his face bloodied over a bowl of Mixed Offal Noodles—brickbats and folding stools from the Seven Weapons of the Street all coming at him. He didn't want to ask for trouble.

As for Stephen Chow's romantic entanglement—

"None of my damn business!"

At a round table on Food Street, a group of colleagues from some TV Station were having a late-night snack. A girl with glasses kept sizing up the guy making faces in front of the shop window.

When she got a clear look, her eyes lit up. She grinned inwardly. No doubt about it—it was him. Just grabbing a late-night snack and she'd stumbled onto a story. Tomorrow's work could be done early.

She already had the headline in mind: "Former God of Cookery Reduced to Begging on Temple Street."

Heh heh heh.

"Hey, I'm going to the restroom," she said to her colleague beside her. The others were deep in their drinks and just waved her off.

The girl slung her bag over her shoulder, circled around, and came up beside Jiang Hao.

Suddenly, she pulled a camera out of her bag and started snapping away at him. Click, click, click. Jiang Hao was startled. "What are you doing?"

"You're Stephen Chow, right? I'm a reporter from the ATV News Department. I want to interview you. As a former God of Cookery, a business elite worth over a hundred million, now reduced to eating on Temple Street—how do you feel?" The girl rattled off her questions at lightning speed.

Feelings? Feelings, my ass.

"Did you ever think you'd get your comeuppance? Do you regret it? Do you have any remorse toward the dining public?"

The female reporter was sharp-tongued, her questions vicious and cutting. Behind her glasses, her eyes gleamed with excitement.

Jiang Hao turned and walked away. He didn't want to deal with anyone right now, let alone some reporter.

Seeing him leave, she chased after him, shouting, "Stephen Chow! Hey, stop! I want to interview you!"

Jiang Hao ignored her and quickened his pace.

The girl, annoyed that the more she yelled, the faster he ran, started sprinting. Jiang Hao saw her and broke into a run too. They chased each other out of Temple Street and onto a quieter road.

"Hey, stop!"

"Huff, huff~"

"I refuse to believe I can't catch you today. I was on the sports team in college!"

The bespectacled reporter had real grit. She kept up the pursuit. Jiang Hao turned into an alley. The woman gritted her teeth and followed. The moment she entered the alley, she saw Jiang Hao standing there—and she slammed straight into him.

"Ah!" The female reporter yelped, stumbling back until her back hit the alley wall. Jiang Hao stepped forward, one hand bracing against the wall, and stared down at her hard.

A textbook Wall Slam pose.

The female reporter flinched, squeezed her eyes shut, and shouted, "What are you doing? Don't you dare! I'll scream! If you try anything, you won't get away!"

Jiang Hao was furious. Through gritted teeth, he said, "You chased me for two blocks. You really think I don't have a temper?"

The woman opened her eyes, glared at him, and put on a tough front. "I told you, I'm a reporter. I have the right to interview you."

"And I have the right to refuse an interview. You know what? That kind of behavior makes people hate you." Jiang Hao leaned in closer, making the woman shrink back and dodge.

"But since you came to me willingly, don't blame me for—heh heh heh!"

Jiang Hao put on a leering grin, the perfect villain face, and the woman screamed, "Ah! Harassment!"

Jiang Hao only wanted to scare her, to make this annoying female reporter disappear.

Thinking about his current situation, he was now completely bankrupt, not a single cent in his pocket, and even eating would be a problem. His former mansion had been sealed off, leaving him with nowhere to sleep. Tonight, he might even end up on the streets.

He wanted to complete the mission, to taste all the world's delicacies—ha, right now, even getting enough to eat was a struggle.

Looking at the screaming female reporter, an idea suddenly struck him. "Hey, stop yelling. Do you want to be famous?"

The female reporter froze, stopped screaming, and looked at Jiang Hao. "What did you say?"

"I'm asking you, do you want to be famous, to become a renowned journalist?" Jiang Hao said.

"Of course I do."

"I have an idea. I guarantee it'll make you famous."

"What idea?" the female reporter asked blankly.

Jiang Hao straightened up, brushed off his suit, and said, "I haven't eaten, and I've been running all the way. I'm hungry now. You're treating."

The female reporter looked him up and down, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "You're not just trying to trick me into buying you dinner, are you? Hmph."

"At most, I'll let you interview me," Jiang Hao said.

The female reporter thought it over and found it acceptable. "Then let's go back to Temple Street."

Jiang Hao shook his head. "How could I, the God of Cookery, eat at a street stall on Temple Street? At the very least, it has to be a place like Da Fu Gui."

"Da Fu Gui? I can't even afford one meal there with a month's salary. Forget it. I know a small restaurant nearby. Take it or leave it," the female reporter said huffily.

"A small restaurant, huh? Fine, I'll make do," Jiang Hao said reluctantly.