A Bird Feather Ignites a War

Chapter 38: A War Over a Single Bird Feather

Manager Wang returned to his office and immediately called his boss.

Head Chef Dai had whispered Stephen Chow's identity in Manager Wang's ear. Manager Wang hadn't recognized him at first, but with Chef Dai's reminder, he instantly recalled who the man was.

His boss had used underhanded methods to cripple Stephen Chow, seize the God of Cookery title, shut down his restaurant empire, and drive him to total bankruptcy. Who would have thought the man would turn up at a TV station hosting a show?

A thought flashed through his mind: Stephen Chow was here to cause trouble.

Leaving Chef Dai to handle things, he hurried out of the restaurant and into his office, dialing his boss's number.

"What is it?" Boss Wu picked up, his voice low.

"Boss, there's something I need to report." Manager Wang's tone was anxious.

"Speak."

"Boss, that Stephen Chow is here. He's on ATV's food program as a tasting guest. Just now, he started trashing our dishes, saying how bad they are. Boss, I think he's here to stir up trouble." Manager Wang said.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a curse: "That deadbeat bastard, daring to cause trouble on my turf. Give me the full details."

Manager Wang laid out the situation. Boss Wu's voice seethed with rage: "Damn it, that son of a bitch actually dares to show his face. Hmph, send security to throw him out."

"Can't do that, Boss. The TV station is recording the show right now. If we kick him out, we'll offend the station. And having it caught on tape wouldn't look good either." Manager Wang quickly advised.

Boss Wu realized he had a point. He thought for a moment. "Wait there for my reply." He hung up and immediately called a friend at ATV, a senior supervisor there.

"Yang Sheng, long time no talk. How about a drink sometime?"

"Ah, Boss Wu, of course, sounds great."

"Yang Sheng, I need a favor. Your station is filming a show at my restaurant, Da Long Feng. They've been saying some unfavorable things. Can you make sure that footage gets cut and never airs?" Boss Wu said, his tone genial.

"A food variety show? I oversee a lot of variety programs. I'm not too familiar with the new ones. But no worries, I'll look into it when I get back. I'll make sure it doesn't air." Supervisor Yang said.

"Ah, thank you, Yang Sheng. I'll set something up in a couple of days. You must come."

"Sure, sure."

With the ATV higher-up's guarantee, Boss Wu relaxed, though he was still fuming. He called Manager Wang again. "Go keep an eye on them. Let them record all they want. I've already spoken to my friend at ATV. It'll never air."

Manager Wang acknowledged the order and headed back upstairs to the restaurant.

"Bang!"

Boss Wu slammed the phone down onto its cradle.

A cigar dangling from his lips, a vicious glint in his eyes, he muttered, "Stephen Chow, you deadbeat. Instead of begging on the streets like you should, you dare come to my restaurant to cause trouble. I'll find someone to finish you off."

Inside the Imperial Hall of Da Long Feng Restaurant, Jiang Hao's venomous tongue continued its assault.

"Not only are the ingredients subpar, but you didn't even put any care into the preparation." He picked up a pair of chopsticks from the table and fished an impossibly tiny feather from the soup bowl—clearly a Golden Swallow feather.

When a Golden Swallow builds its nest, it uses saliva mixed with its own down. To prepare bird's nest, you soak it for hours to rehydrate it, then meticulously pick out every last feather with tweezers. These days, few kitchens do this work themselves; most buy pre-cleaned nests and just soak them.

This feather was a clear sign of sloppy work.

To be fair, finding one or two feathers in bird's nest isn't unheard of. But in a five-star hotel, with Jiang Hao catching it, it became a problem.

The camera zoomed in on Jiang Hao's chopsticks, magnifying the tiny feather a hundredfold.

Head Chef Dai's lips trembled. "You can pick out a single feather two or three millimeters long?"

"Heh. That's the skill of a God of Cookery. I've always been meticulous with ingredients." Jiang Hao said, completely unruffled.

"Who can make bird's nest without leaving a feather or two behind?" Chef Dai huffed.

"Oh? Is that Da Long Feng's attitude toward its customers? A mistake is a mistake. No excuses." Jiang Hao's tone was firm, like a judge passing sentence.

The two glared at each other, sparks of fury crackling in the air between them—at least, that's what the post-production sound effects would suggest.

Chef Dai's face was red with rage from Jiang Hao's sharp tongue.

"What kind of God of Cookery are you? You're old news. The God of Cookery now is Tang Sheng. Stop parading around with that title, trying to fool people." Chef Dai roared.

"Every generation has its talents. That's normal. But that doesn't deny that I was once the God of Cookery, does it?" Jiang Hao said calmly.

Chef Dai's face twisted into a sneer. "Former God of Cookery? Ha! Your reputation was bought and paid for. What kind of lousy God of Cookery were you, daring to lecture me here?"

Jiang Hao didn't flinch. "If I recall, you, Head Chef Dai, were one of the ones who voted me in back then."

At that, Chef Dai's face darkened. It was true. When they'd made Jiang Hao the God of Cookery, people like him had cast their votes—or rather, taken their bribes. Denying it now was impossible.

Chef Dai was choked silent, stewing in his own frustration.

Could he just blurt out that Stephen Chow had bought the title? Exposing Stephen Chow meant exposing himself. He didn't dare. His face flushed with anger as he pointed at the restaurant entrance. "Stephen Chow, you're not welcome here. I don't need your critique of my cooking. Get out of Da Long Feng now."

Cornered and lashing out, was he?

This was getting interesting.

Jiang Hao folded his arms, a mocking tone in his voice. "Oh? So restaurants can just kick out customers now? Da Long Feng sure has some nerve."

"Besides, I wasn't invited by you. I was brought here by ATV as a food-tasting expert. You don't have the authority to throw me out."

"Your cooking's subpar, and you can't stand being called out. I remember you were once hailed as the 'Three Delicacies Master'—Bird's Nest, Shark Fin, Abalone. Not so impressive now, huh."

Seeing Stephen Chow's smug, arrogant face made Chef Dai's blood boil. "Stephen Chow, I know you're here to pick a fight. Get out!"

"I'm not coming out, so what are you gonna do about it?"

"Believe it or not, I'll beat you to death, you bastard."

"Come on then, try it."

The two were about to close in on each other, the food tasting about to turn into an all-out brawl. The two sous chefs, seeing this, immediately grabbed Head Chef Dai, while the assistant director from the TV station held Stephen Chow back. Both men kept pointing at each other and cursing, swinging their legs and waving their arms, looking like they were ready to fight to the death.

Zhen Xiaoqiu watched with excitement. Now this was interesting—if a show like this aired, the audience would love it.