The Imperial Kitchen

Chapter 40 The Imperial Kitchen

"Xiaoqiu, this program has a lot of problems."

Vice Director Liu also had a mind to scrap the show. Back then, he'd been worn down by his niece's pleading and agreed, never expecting she'd actually produce something like this—novel and interesting, sure, but he also knew airing it would stir up some minor trouble.

Before Vice Director Liu could finish, Zhen Xiaoqiu darted over, grabbed his arm, and shook it hard. "Uncle, you promised me back then! You can't go back on your word. When I was little, you told me a person has to keep their word—you can't break it."

"Did I say that?" Vice Director Liu's gaze flickered.

"Uncle~~~~~~"

Vice Director Liu's whole body went numb. Ever since she was a kid, whenever she wanted something, Xiaoqiu used this trick on him—shaking his arm with a long, drawn-out "Uncle"—and he always caved.

"Alright, alright, you win. You've been like this since you were little. Here's the deal: I'll call the broadcast department and arrange a time slot, but let's be clear—if the ratings are bad, this show gets pulled immediately," Vice Director Liu said.

"Then I want prime time," Zhen Xiaoqiu said through gritted teeth.

Vice Director Liu personally coordinated the schedule, setting it for tomorrow night after 10 PM. It wasn't exactly prime time, but it was still pretty good, since TV dramas were the station's main draw.

Back at the office, Zhen Xiaoqiu told Jiang Hao the result: airing tomorrow at 10 PM. Jiang Hao thought for a moment, then said, "I think we should use this day to film as many episodes as we can."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid once the show airs, we'll get blacklisted by every major restaurant," Jiang Hao said.

Zhen Xiaoqiu frowned. "Then won't our show be dead in the water?"

"Heh, don't worry. I have a plan. For now, we need to race against time and squeeze out a couple more episodes," Jiang Hao said.

"So who do you think we should target next?" Zhen Xiaoqiu asked.

Target.

Good choice of words.

"Imperial Kitchen."

That restaurant had ties to Boss Wu. He wasn't the big boss, but he held shares in it. Jiang Hao was the type to pay back every slight, so naturally, he'd go after an enemy's restaurant. Plus, since Boss Wu didn't manage it directly, they could exploit a timing gap.

The next day, the TV station's van pulled up in front of Imperial Kitchen. Same routine as yesterday—when the restaurant heard it was a food feature show, they welcomed it warmly.

Inside the private room, a calligraphy scroll hung on the wall:

"Spread the mats and set the feast, hand the stools with care. Some offer toasts, some return them, wash the cups and set them there. Pickled sauces and minced meats are served, some roasted, some grilled. Fine dishes of tongue and tripe, with songs and shouts fulfilled. The strong bows are drawn taut, the four arrows evenly matched. When the arrows all strike true, the guests are ranked by virtue. The strong bows are drawn again, four arrows nocked in hand. Four shafts stand like trees, the guests depart without regret."

Zhen Xiaoqiu saw Jiang Hao staring at the scroll and followed his gaze. After staring for a long time without understanding a word, she asked Jiang Hao, "Can you read it? What does it mean?"

Jiang Hao said, "As it happens, I do know. It's a passage from the Book of Songs, describing a Zhou king feasting his lords and ministers, with everyone making merry at the banquet."

Manager Zhao, quick on the uptake, immediately praised him. "This gentleman is truly learned. We had a famous calligrapher write this specially—most people can't even recognize it, yet you identified its origin at a glance."

Zhen Xiaoqiu couldn't help sneaking a look at Jiang Hao. Who knew the guy had this kind of knowledge?

The equipment was set up, and the crew started filming. Today's manager hadn't consulted the boss, so there was no talk of a free meal. Zhen Xiaoqiu didn't mind—they had a filming budget, and worst case, they'd pay for the food themselves. In fact, this kind of show was way cheaper than most others.

Manager Zhao introduced beside them: "Our Imperial Kitchen draws from the imperial cuisines of various dynasties, with a special focus on Qing Dynasty palace fare. We emphasize 'ancient methods and ancestral traditions,' with meticulous ingredient selection and exquisite plating. In color, texture, taste, and nutrition, everything harmonizes—whether for the palate or the eye, our diners enjoy the utmost pleasure."

Zhen Xiaoqiu and Jiang Hao discussed it and ordered twelve dishes, all Imperial Kitchen's signature specialties: Eight Treasures Roasted Duck, Braised Lion's Head, Hibiscus Prawns, Consort Scallops, Four Treasures Platter, Butterfly Sea Cucumber, Fish and Rice Fragrance, Dragon Playing with Phoenix, Golden Garden, Pear and Dove, Full of Joy, and Heaven and Earth Buddha's Hand.

One by one, the dishes arrived.

The biggest impression? Beautiful.

Every dish was exquisitely crafted, like works of art—shaped into cranes, koi, and other forms on the plate. They didn't look like food, but like paintings or scenes, so delicate you'd hesitate to touch them with your chopsticks.

The photographer took shots while Imperial Kitchen's head chef explained on the side. This time, Jiang Hao didn't interrupt. After yesterday's post-production, he'd learned that TV shows could be edited, so he planned to save his energy for the end.

Ding~ Collected one "Taste of Gourmet Food." Keep up the good work, collector.

Ding~

As Jiang Hao savored the food, system prompts kept coming. Another win—he'd collected 12 mission points. Now his progress was at 20%. That was his real goal all along.

Full and satisfied, it was time to get to work.

Jiang Hao wiped his mouth, cleared his throat, and drew everyone's attention. The camera swung toward him, knowing he was about to start.

Jiang Hao smiled and said, "Truly worthy of the name 'Imperial Kitchen'—exquisite craftsmanship, each with its own character, genuinely rare delicacies. Take this Eight Treasures Duck, for example: tender white skin, rich but not greasy, fragrant and delicious, with a crisp, tender texture. Or this Heaven and Earth Buddha's Hand—pork shaped like a Buddha's hand, crispy on the outside, tender inside, savory and fragrant..."

Jiang Hao praised several dishes in a row. The head chef listened with a beaming smile, nodding at him repeatedly, thinking to himself, This guy's a real connoisseur.

Zhen Xiaoqiu was a bit surprised. Why wasn't Jiang Hao being his usual sharp-tongued self today? Had that fight yesterday changed him?

But then Jiang Hao's tone shifted.

"But this table of dishes, I still think it's not up to standard." Jiang Hao said.

The chef's smile froze on his face.

Zhen Xiaoqiu's expression lit up with excitement. Here it comes, it's starting.

"If I had to rate it, I'd only use four words to describe this table of dishes: flashy but hollow! Every dish has a name that sounds impressive, but it's all just gimmicks."

"What's 'Fish and Rice Fragrance,' 'Dragon Playing with Phoenix,' 'Golden Garden,' 'Full of Joy'? You can't tell what the dishes are until they hit the table, and then you find out 'Full of Joy' is just pouch-shaped tenderloin."

"And this 'Butterfly Sea Cucumber'—the sea cucumber slices are paper-thin." Jiang Hao picked up his chopsticks, lifted a slice of sea cucumber to show it. "They're transparent. When you eat them, your teeth can't even find the ingredient. How are you supposed to eat this? You're being way too stingy."

"This 'Pear and Dove'—dove slices stir-fried with snow pear slices—requires precise control of the heat. Take a look at your snow pear slices; they're all mushy."

The chef's face darkened. He glanced at Manager Zhao beside him.

Manager Zhao was equally stunned and bewildered. The TV Station had come to record programs before, but no one had ever torn into their dishes like this.